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THE LILY 


OF 


SAN MINIATO. 


Mrs. a V. HAMILTONV' 

AUTHOR OF 

Woven of Many Threads,” ‘‘Crown from the Spear,” 
Etc., Etc. 


NEW YORK: 

p. . pARLETON ^ pO., pUBLISHER^S. 




LIFE 

INSURANCE COMPANY, 

nr THE CITY OF SEW YORK, 

se3 broa-dway. 

OBQANIZEO 1860. 

JAMES BUELL, • • President. 

ASSETS, - - - $4,846,032.64 

SURPLUS, - - - $800,000.00 

£!rery approved form of ^^olicy issued on most 
favorable terms. 


ALL ENDOWMENT POLICIES AND APPROVED CLAIMS 

MATURIKQ IN 1878 

»“■ - DISCOUNTED •• 

ON VRE8ENTJlTION. 


HENRY W. BALDWIN, 

Bupt. Middle Department. 

Pfficb: PrkXEL PuILDINQ, cor and ^ROAD pxs., 

NEW YORK. 


A CHARMING NEW NOVEL 


'HE Lily of San Miniato. 

E 51ors of jFlon-ntje. 

By Mrs. C. V. HAMILTON, 

\tlior of ** Woven, ofJHany Threads,** ** A. Crown front 
The Spear,** Etc., Etc. 

tfrs. Hamilton’s stories are of the most delightful 
iracter. An artist herself, she locates many of her 
ties in Italy, and Hnds opportunities to show familiarity 
h the land of song and art, of which she makes 
idental use to heighten the interest of her tales. 

^mong numerous reviews from the press, of her stories, 
quote a few as follows : — 

Mrs. Hamilton belongs to the class of clever authoresses that exists 
ngland to a large extent.” — Phila. Item. 


It Is a story of much interest, and is written in a clear, flowing and 
hed style. Those who once begin it will hardly care to lay it aside 
re flnishing it.” — Phila. Post. 


The secret of her success lies not so much in her beautiful langiaage, 
1 that peculiar naturalness appertaining to all her writings.” — 
m Register. 


The interest of the reader is held from the beginning to the close, 
arming story in all respects .” — Kalamazoo Telegraph. 


A. strong fiction evincing remarkable creative jK)wer and beauty of 
ession — vivid character-drawing, fine descriptive writing, and the 
)duction throughout the book of a humorous vein, which gives it an 
rtaining spice, and preserves it from becoming sombre .” — Boston 
es. 

Sold everywhere — and sent by mail, postage free,, 
receipt of price, $1.00, paper; and $1.50, cloth, by 

e. W. CAELETON & CO., Publishers, 

Madison Square, New York, 






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ILY OF San Miniato. 


^_^tor|r cf Jflorjena. • 

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^TYV^ 

'i Mbs. c/v.'^HAMILTON, 

1 'V 

I '* AUTHOR OF 

j “WOVEN OF MANY THREADS,” “A CROWN FROM THE SPEAR,” 

I “ ROPES OF SAND,” “ MY BONNIE LASS,”* ETC. 

I 


NEW YORK: 

Copyright, 1878, by 

G. IV. Carleton & Co., Publishers. 

LONDON: SMITH, ELDER & CO. 
MDCCCLXXVIII. 









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Che di amara radice 

Amare foglie^ e amaro frutto nasce ; 

11 misero si pasce 
2 >’ orrore^ e di paura, 

Di lacrime e sospire^ 

Sempre in nuovi martiri^ 

E per lui solo al mondo il pianto dura. 

Oreste. Tragedia Antica. 


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CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER I. 

PAGB 

Infelice 9 

CHAPTER II. 

The Angel of the Church 23 

CHAPTER III. 

The Palazzo Altimonti 39 

CHAPTER IV. 

The Duke of Castellara 52 

CHAPTER V. 

Fiordilisa 70 

CHAPTER VI. 

The Marriage in the Duomo 85 

CHAPTER VII. 

Signora Pia 101 

CHAPTER VIII. 

Lisa and the Duchess 117 

CHAPTER IX. 

The Statue of Aurora 133 

CHAPTER X. 

The Home in the Via Di San Gallo 147 

CHAPTER XI. 

Lisa's Romance 164 


Vlll 


CONTENTS. 




CHAPTER XII. 

An Evening at the Opera 

PAGE 

180 

"N'ftmfisis, , , , , 

. CHAPTER XIII. 

196 

A Discovery 

CHAPTER XIV. 

213 

A Mystery 

CHAPTER XV. 

228 


CHAPTER XVI. 


Count Valdimer’s Disappointment 

243 

CHAPTER XVII. 

Enrico Fails as a Mediator 

259 

The Duel 

CHAPTER XVIII. 

275 

Happy at Last... . . . . . 

CHAPTER XIX. 


/ 

Hugo’s Despair 

CHAPTER XX. 


Hugo Confesses 

CHAPTER XXI. 

324 

The Statue of Hebe. . 

CHAPTER XXII. 


** A Cruce Salus ” 

CHAPTER XXIII. 

359 

Enrico’s Reward 

CHAPTER XXIV. 



THE • 


LILT OF SAT MINIATO. 


A STORY OF FLORENCE, 


CHAPTER I. 


INFKLICB. 



N^E intensely hot afternoon in the latter part 
of July, when nearly all the wealtliy and 
fashionable of Florence had left the city for 
the lakes or mountains, and most of the idle and poor 
were resting their languid limbs under the trees of the 
Cascine, Boboli, or some other of the many beautiful 
gardens on the banks of the Arno, the public thorough- 
fares seemed almost deserted, those only remaining in 
the streets who were engaged in some sort of traffic, 
or on duty as guards and drivers of the numerous 
vehicles which were drawn well up in the shade. 

The gamins^ indigenous to all large cities, and usu- 
ally as impervious to heat as salamanders, were for once 


10 


INFELICE. 


subdued into silence and repose, lying face downward 
under the massive walls that protect the west side of 
the Piazza della Signoria from the ardent rays of the 
sun ; and even the dogs, oppressed by the stifling 
atmosphere, lay panting with extended tongues and 
drowsy eyes in the coolest places, if any one place 
could be cooler than another, on that day of our Lord, 
July 6, 1823. 

Under the open arcade that surrounds the Loggia di 
Lanzi, seemingly unmindful of the discomfort that 
affected every living thing around him, sat a strange- 
looking figure, huddled together in the most ungainly 
fashion imaginable ; his knees, drawn nearly up to his 
chin, supported a small slab of soft, light-colored 
stone, upon which he was skilfully copying in alto 
relievo the Judith and Holof ernes of Donatello. 

While he worked with eager, feverish haste, his head, 
covered with thick, dark hair, was bent so closely to his 
knees that one could scarce catch a glimpse of his 
face ; only when, from time to time, he looked up to 
study his model, his thin, sallow features were clearly 
outlined against the dark arches behind him. 

In his cramped, awkward posture there was neither 
grace nor beauty ; but his delicate, sad face was full of 
feeling and repressed passion. His brow, over which 
the heavy hair fell when his head was bent above his 
work, was broad and intelligent ; his eyes, deep-set. 


INFELIGE. 


11 


large and dark, had something of the wistful, appeal- 
ing expression in them that one often sees in those of 
dumb animals, blended with a sort of intensity and 
strength which the firm and fine outline of his mouth 
and chin fully sustained. 

His long, thin fingers, singularly slender and white 
for one evidently so low in the scale of humanity, 
manipulated with ease and dexterity the tiny chisels 
he used to perfect his exquisite work. 

One seeing him there, crouched before the noble 
group, so utterly unmindful of all around him, so 
silent and absorbed, might have thought him also a 
figure of stone, save for the rapid movement of his 
hands, the occasional uplifting of his head, and the 
quick, impatient movement with which he threw back 
the heavy locks that sometimes came between his 
vision and the object of his careful study. 

The pitiless sun was sinking lower and lower, and 
already the cooling breeze, th^ in these southern 
lands usually springs to life at the close of day, was 
drifting in refreshing waves among the open arches 
and over the bent head of the patient artist, as grad- 
ually men and animals crept out from the shadows, 
shaking off the slumber from their heavy lids, and 
stretching their stiffened limbs gratefully in the fresh 
evening air which brought them renewed life and 
vigor. 


12 


INFELIGE. 


“ What ! what ! Hugo ! still working here all through 
the day, in spite of this heat, that fairly broils one ? ” 
and a short, stout priest, with untidy garments and 
oily face, who crept along in the shade of the arches, 
stopped a moment to look over the artist’s shoulder. 

“ Yes, Father Ilario, I am still here, and here I have 
been since early morning ; for one must work, if one 
would live in this hard world,” returned Hugo, with- 
out raising his head. 

‘‘ And it seems that your task is nearly completed.” 

“ Nearly, thank the Blessed Yirgin.” 

“ And well done, too, and I count myself a judge,” 
said Father Ilario, mopping down his face with his 
coarse blue handkerchief, as he leaned over to inspect 
the work more closely. 

“ I trust it is well done,” returned Hugo, humbly ; 
“ or else it would be better not to be done at all, for 
no one will buy copies from me unless they are exact ; 
and for the most perfect thing I can do, the dealers 
only pay me one- quarter of what they would pay 
others for poorer work. So you see, Father Ilario, 
what it is to be unfortunate. The more God has 
afflicted you, the more your fellow-rnen oppress you.” 

“ Nay, nay, say not so, my friend ; that is rank in- 
justice to your Creator,” returned Father Ilario, in a 
smooth, conciliating voice. ‘‘ Now, see what you have 
in compensation for your deformity — a talent, a real 


INFELIGE. 


13 


talent, by which you can earn your bread, while others 
who are tall and straight have to go hungry or beg.’’ 

“ Thank God ! I have never yet begged, though I 
have often gone hungry,” said Hugo, still bending 
over his work. 

“ Then, why not be thankful for what you have ? ” 

“ It is so little,” and a hot tear dropped on the busy 
fingers of the artist. 

“ Ah ! there it is again — ^}^our ingratitude. Now, 
look at me. Look at my life of constant self-denial, 
fasting, prayers at midnight, heat in summer, cold in 
winter. If I am hungry, I must not eat. If I am 
thirsty, I must not drink; If I am weary, I must not 
rest. If I am. cold, I must bear it ; and if I am like to 
melt in the sun, I must go forth to mass or vespers ; 
and if I am never so sleepy when the bell for prayers 
rings at midnight, I must arise and go into the cold, 
gloomy chapel, no matter how pleasant my dreams 
may have been. Think of that ! — one has not even 
the privilege of dreaming without being interrupted. 
Now, you, although you think yourself unfortunate, you 
can eat all you can get when you are inclined to eat.” 

“ Ah ! but if you cannot get food, of what use is the 
inclination and the liberty ? ” asked Hugo, raising his 
pathetic eyes to the fat face of the priest. 

“ But you can get it if you are industrious. However, 
we will say no more of that. I was only trying to show 


14 


INFELIGE. 


you how ungrateful you are, and that others beside 
yourself have their troubles and mortifications of the 
flesh. Now, this afternoon, I desired to read my 
breviary under the shadow of the trees on San Mini- 
ato, where there was quite a refreshing breeze ; but, 
instead of resting there comfortably, I had to plod 
down that long, weary hill to say vespers for Brother 
Ambrogio, who has gone into the country to see a 
sick man ; and then I have to prepare to leave for 
Kome to-morrow right early. Ah ! there is the bell 
of San Michele, so I must hasten. Thank the Virgin, 
it is near, for I am more weary with my walking in 
this heat than you are with your working. Addio, and 
say fifty aves to-night, and the Blessed Mother will 
give you patience to bear your lot uncomplainingly.” 
With this pious advice, the old priest hurried away as 
fast as his short, fat limbs would take him, wiping his 
streaming face as he went. 

Scarcely had Father Ilario disappeared around a 
corner, when a number of small boys, who had been 
invisible for hours, sprang up suddenly all over the 
great square, as lively and wicked as though such dis- 
comforts as heat and weariness were never known. 

Looking about for some new object on which to 
vent their long-repressed mischief, they discovered the 
unfortunate Hugo diligently bent over his work, and, 
swooping down upon him like birds of prey from all 


INFELIGE. 


15 


four corners of the piazza, they began a series of small 
persecutions — poking at him witli sharp sticks, twitch- 
ing his garments, and slyly pulling his long hair, while 
they shouted in every note of the gamut, “ Here is the 
hunchback ! here is the hunchback ! ” 

For some time the unhappy creature remained in- 
different to their taunts and gibes. As silent as the 
marble statue before him, he worked on with bowed 
head and steady, dexterous touch, until at last, when 
one bolder and more fiendish than the others, flinging 
a bit of decayed vegetable at his head, which, missing 
its mark, struck the pillar behind him, and rebound- 
ing, fell into the very midst of his beautiful design, 
leaving an ugly stain on the carefully wrought sur- 
face, he could endure it no longer ; but, springing up 
with livid face, quivering lips, and flashing eyes, he 
pressed his work close to his breast with one hand, 
while with the other he dashed aside the little imps, 
hurling them violently right and left in spite of his 
deformity, which, now that he had risen from his 
crouching position, was plainly visible. He was, in- 
deed, a hunchback ; his head bowed, his shoulders 
reaching to his ears, his limbs unnaturally long, and 
his body unnaturally short. 

Poor, unfortunate, tormented being ! There he stood 
like a hunted stag at bay, with quivering nostrils, wild 
eyes, and trembling limbs, anxiously trying to shield 


16 


INFELICE. 


his treasure from those sacrilegious hands, and him* 
self from their rude and boisterous attack. 

At length, almost exhausted from his effort to pro- 
tect his work from injury, rather than his own person, 
and seeing that his persecutors had not in the least 
abandoned their intention of routing him entirely, he 
looked around appealingly for assistance, while he cried 
in tones of mingled indignation and entreaty : 

“ Mother of God ! have you no pity, that you will 
allow these little demons to torment me so ? I only 
am trying to live — to keep the wretched life confided 
to my care. I ask but to remain here and work in 
peace, and that even is denied me. Children, cliil- 
dren ! ” and stretching out his disengaged hand towards 
them, he turned his white, weary face, from which all 
the anger had gone, full upon them. “ Why will you 
torment me so? I love you all, and I would not injure 
3^ou. I am not bad, nor given to quarrel. I am only a 
poor, unfortunate being, tired and faint from hunger, 
and I cannot buy bread until I finish this copy ; there- 
fore, I entreat you to allow me to complete it.” 

But his touching appeal fell on deaf ears ; and see- 
ing that it was useless to try to continue his work, he 
gathered up his small tools and turned away from the 
spot with a disheartened sigh, followed by the hooting, 
shouting rabble. 

As he left the piazza behind him and entered a 


INFELIGE. 


17 


narrow street that led to the gate of San Miniato, he 
clasped his hands with a gesture of repressed anguish, 
while the large tears gathered slowly, and rolling 
down his wasted cheeks, fell in great drops on his de- 
sign — disfigured by the uncleanly object that had 
struck it — stained and utterly ruined beyond all hope 
of repair. 

“ It is cruel, it is wicked,” he muttered to himself ; 
“ all the labor of weeks destroyed in a moment, for I 
cannot erase this stain without marring the features, 
which I cut with such care. It is the best piece of 
work I have ever done, and the most difiicult ; and 
this head of Judith is so delicate. I have wearied my 
eyes so in copying it, and I was so proud of it ! If 
God had not allowed the sun to set so soon, the heat 
would have kept these wicked little demons quiet, and 
I might have finished it ; then, I should have been paid 
ten scudi / but now, I shall get nothing. It is of no 
value, it is imperfect, and I may as well destroy it 
altogether.” 

As he spoke, a spasm of anger distorted his face, and 
his eyes glared with fury, as he turned impetuously 
and dashed the stone against the angle of a building, 
crushing it into a dozen fragments, which he gatliered 
up and hurled fiercely at his pursuers, with curses and 
cries of rage. 

This exhibition of passion did not daunt them in the 


18 


INFELICE. 


least, but instead, only excited their mirth, as they 
followed him into a narrow street, whither he ran 
wildly, holding his hands over his ears to shut out their 
shouts of laughter. As he fled, they pursued, and one 
of the most daring, hurrying on ip advance of the 
others, flung a piece of the broken stone at him, which 
struck his deformed back, causing such acute pain 
that in an instant he seemed transformed into a wild 
beast. 

With foaming mouth and glaring eyes, he turned 
suddenly, and before the boy could escape, he seized 
him, and holding him high in his long arms, seemed 
about to dash him on the pavement, when a carriage 
rapidly turned the corner and stopped before the 
excited and terrified group of children, who were now 
screaming wildly, greatly alarmed at the fate of their 
comrade. 

“ What is this disturbance ? Hold there, ruffian ! 
release that child I’’ shouted a voice from the car- 
riage, and a man in the uniform of an officer of the 
g over no civile sprang out, and seizing the hunchback 
dashed him aside, while he pushed the trembling boy 
into the midst of his companions, telling him to take 
himself off as quickly as possible. Then, turning to 
Hugo, who stood pale and trembling, all the anger 
and courage gone out of him at this sudden appari- 
tion, he said sternly ; 


INFELIGE. 


19 


“ Did I not tell you, if I caught you in the city again, 
I should send you to prison ? ” 

“ Ah ! Signore, I remember that you did.” 

“Then why are you here now, in defiance of my 
orders ? ” 

“Because I was starving, and I could do nothing 
beyond the walls to earn a soTdiP 

“ Is it necessary, because you come into the city, to 
make such a disturbance as this % ” 

“ 1 pray you. Signore, to believe me when I tell you 
that it was not my fault. I was working peaceably in 
the Loggia di Lanzi, when these boys beset me, ruined 
my work, and drove me away.” 

“ That is the old story, and I do not believe it. These 
troubles would not occur if you did not provoke them. 
You are a bad, quarrelsome fellow.” 

“ You mistake. Signore. I am not bad ; I would not 
harm a fiy, if I was left in peace.” 

“ Silence I do not contradict me. Did I not just see 
you about to dash that child to pieces on the pave- 
ment. If I had not arrived the moment I did, you 
would have murdered him.” 

The hunchback shivered and turned paler than be- 
fore ; then said humbly, while tears filled his eyes, “ It 
was my dreadful temper. Signore, and the pain — I 
forgot myself. Believe me, if I was left alone, I would 
do no harm.” 


20 


JNFELICE. 


“ It is useless to promise me ; I have no faith in your 
word. This is the third time I have detected you dis- 
turbing the peace, and if I did my duty, I should send 
you to prison at once.” 

“ O Signore ! for the love of the Virgin, pardon me 
this time and let me leave the city, and I will never 
return here to work, even though I starve. At San 
Miniato, I am safe ; no one disturbs me there. If I die, 
I shall die in the only home I have on earth, in the 
free air, where I can see the trees, and the blue sky 
above me. I am so miserable. I implore you to spare 
me. I am not worth your anger.” 

“ There, there, that will do,” said the officer, evident- 
ly moved by the poor creature’s appeal. “ I have no 
ill feeling against you ; but the public peace must be 
respected. Get out of the city as quickly as you can, 
and remember, if I see you here again, you will be put 
where you will be obliged to conduct yourself peace- 
ably. Now go, and thank your good fortune that you 
fell into my hands instead of another’s.” 

Hugo, without . aiting to reply, with a wild, hunted 
look in his eyes, clenched his hands in a sort of re- 
pressed agony and rushed away into the shadow of 
a narrow street that led straight to the Arno. As he 
went, he muttered to himself : “ I knew it would come 
sooner or later. I knew that, through their cruelty, I 
should be driven out of the city. Oh, my unfortunate 


INFELICE, 


21 


temper ! why did I not control it a little longer, though 
it did burn within me like the flames of inferno? 
Now there is nothing left for me but to cool my angry, 
hot heart in the river. I have always known that 
everything would end there for me some day. The 
river ! the river ! I have heard its cool, clear ripple, as 
it sounds against the bridges hour after hour, when I 
have been hungry and cold and in pain, and it seemed 
to call to me gently and kindly : ‘ Come to me, come 
to me.’ But while 1 had my art, while I could come 
into the city and copy, and worship these beautiful 
marble gods, I would not listen to it. I said : ‘ No, no, 
I will come to thee only when there is no other ref- 
uge for me.’ Now there is no other refuge, and I 
must go. It is only a moment of dread — one short, 
quick plunge, and all will be over, and this poor, mis- 
shapen, aching body will be at rest forever. Why is 
it, I wonder, that when I am the only one to suffer 
because of my misfortunes, every one treats me as 
though I inflicted some torment upon them. Perhaps 
I do, with the sight of my hideous form. In this love- 
ly country, where all is grace and symmetry, the 
distorted gohbo is looked upon as an impersonation of 
God’s anger — a creature set apart by his Creator for 
the scorn and loathing of all mankind. And yet I am 
innocent of any wrong to others. I have a nice sense 
of justice in my soul. I love the fortunate beings 


22 


INFELICE. 


who have neither affection nor pity for me. I can 
forgive those who make me suffer. I am grateful 
for one word of kindness, one glance that is not 
full of abhorrence. I worship all that is beautiful, 
and I would rather live, if I could ; but there is no 
place for me on earth ; the city I worship is closed 
to me ; I can see its beauties no more, and the river 
calls me — calls me, as it always has in my hours of 
anguish.” 

Suddenly the deep tone of a bell struck on his ear, 
and looking up in his hurried flight, he saw the door of 
the church of Santo Spirito standing open before him. 
“ I will enter,” he said, “ and offer up one prayer to 
the Mother of God for the repose of my poor soul, 
before I usher it into eternity.” 

Slipping through the black shadows of the great 
pillars, he crept into the almost empty church, and 
falling on his knees before one of the altars, he tried 
to turn his troubled thoughts to heaven ; but, instead of 
divine mercy claiming his attention, the memory of 
earthly injustice overpowered him, and the wrongs he 
had just experienced oppressed him so heavily, that he 
covered his face with his hands and burst into deep, 
heart-breaking sobs. 


TEE ANGEL OF THE CHURCH, 


23 


CHAPTEK II. 


THE ANGEL OF THE CHURCH. 



HAT is the matter, my poor friend, and why 
do you weep so \ ” The voice fell on Hugo’s 
ear like a strain of sweet, sad music, and 
looking up, he saw a figure before him so lovely that 
his first thought was of saints and angels. But the 
human sympathy of the face, and the kind touch of a 
soft hand on his poor deformed shoulder, told him that 
it was no celestial visitant — only a lovely and compas- 
sionate woman who looked down on him from her 
serene height. 

She was young — ^not over twenty — fair and graceful, 
and her rich robes denoted wealth and rank, as well as 
her jewelled fingers, and the heavy gold clasps that 
bound the prayer-book she held in her hand. But, 
although so young and beautiful, and evidently a child 
of fortune, there was an exj)ressioii of deep sorrow on 
her face, and her voice sounded like the sob of a 
stringed instrument touched by a rude hand. 

“ Your trouble must be great, poor mourner,” she 
continued, as the liunchback, staggering to his feet, 
turned his mournful, tear-stained eyes upon her. 


24 


TEE ANOEL OF THE CHURCH. 


“ It is indeed great, Signora,” and he leaned heavily 
against the railing, as though he would faint from 
weakness. 

‘‘ And you are ill — your pallor shows it.” 

“ I am weary and hungry, that is all. But now I am 
better ; your kind words have cured me.” 

“ Tell me the cause of your trouble, and perhaps I 
can aid you ; at least, if you are suffering from want, 
I can relieve you, for I have more than I need. Now 
tell me all.” 

“ Ah ! gentle lady, it would weary you to hear all 
the story of my wrongs and sufferings. Humanity is 
so cruel to those who are afflicted as I am ! ” 

“ I pray you, tell me, for I would fain find another 
soul as miserable as mine is to pour some balm upon, 
if it is possible, in the hope that it may ease a little my 
own pain.” 

Encouraged by these gentle words, Hugo told the 
story of his persecution and disappointment to the 
lovely stranger, who listened attentively, sighing heav- 
ily from time to time. 

‘‘ Holy mother ! can it be possible that there can be 
such gross injustice here, in our lovely city of Flor- 
ence ? ” 

“Aye, my lady, what I have told you is true, and 
how I am to live now I know not, for my only means 
of subsistence was in copying the different antiques. 


THE ANOEL OF THE CHURCH. 


25 


which a dealer in the Ponte Yecchio bought from 
me — at a very low price, it is true, but still it has kept 
me from starvation. If I am not allowed to come 
any more into the city, I cannot continue my for- 
mer employment, as I have nothing to serve me as 
models. 

Poor unfortunate ! Your lot is indeed a cruel one 
afflicted by God, and wronged and despised by your 
fellow-creatures.” 

Padre Ilario says I have much to be thankful for ; 
that I have my talent, which was given me by the 
Creator in compensation for my deformit}^ ; but if I 
cannot use it, of what use is it to me ? ” 

Have you no parents % ” 

“ Alas ! no. Signora. My mother died when I was a 
child, and my father I can scarce remember.” 

Were you born here, in the city that refuses to 
shelter you ? ” 

“ I know not where I was born ; but 1 think it was 
here, for my earliest recollections are of a pretty cot- 
tage on the banks of the Arno, surrounded by trees 
and flowers, and filled with pictures and books ; and 
of my mother, who was very young and lovely, and 
who must liave been a famous singer, for I have never 
forgotten her voice. She often sat for hours at lier harp, 
and sang more like an angel than a human being ; and 

I have never heard any music like it, not even the ves- 
2 


26 


THE ANGEL OF THE CHURCH 


pers in the churches, where I often go, so that I may 
be a little nearer her.” 

“ And what else can you remember % ” asked the 
lady, as she wiped away a furtive tear. 

“ N^ot much of that time, for I must have been veiy 
young then ; but later, when I was larger and could 
run around the garden, I have a distinct remembrance 
of her coming to me and bidding me to entei* the 
house, telling me that my father had come and she 
wished me to remain in my chamber until he went 
away. Poor mother ! child though I was, I understood • 
that she did not wish the author of my being to see 
his poor afflicted offspring.” 

Then you never saw your father ? ” 

“ Yes, I saw him at that time. Burning with curios- 
ity to see what a father was like, I crept from my 
hiding-place and went unobserved into the garden . 
again. There I saw, sitting on the loggia of our little 
cottage, a tall, handsome man, dressed in an officer’s 
uniform. He held my mother’s hand in his, and she , 
was weeping bitterly. I could not endure to see lier ; 
trouble, and, moved by a sudden impulse of tenderness, 

I rushed from my concealment and threw myself on ■' 
her neck, embracing her and kissing away her tears. i 
She put her arras about me, for, hideous though I was, j 
I was her child, and her heai-t was true to the mater- ^ 
nal instinct ; and, leaning her face on my deformed I 


THE ANOEL OF THE CHURCH. 


27 


shoulder, we wept together. I remember all her love 
and tenderness, but not better than I remember the 
exclamation of surprise and horror with which my 
father greeted my sudden appearance. From that 
moment I hated him, and if he is in the world, I some- 
times think that he must suffer dreadful remorse for 
his cruelty to me and my mother.” 

“ Then you know not whether he be living ? ” 

“ No, Signora, for not long after that he deserted 
the woman who had lost all for him, and left her and 
her unfortunate child to the cold charity of the world. 
It broke my mother’s heart. She died in my arms 
when I was eight years old, without telling me the 
name or rank of her betrayer, and I have never known 
until this day ; but sometimes I am confident that I 
shall meet him face to face, a living witness of his sin 
and deception.” 

“And who cared for you after the death of your 
mother ? ” 

“No one but the God of the helpless, if being 
allowed to live was being cared for. My mother did 
not leave enough to bury her, for before her death she 
had quitted her pretty cottage and gone into a squalid 
garret near the Ponte Yecchio, where she breathed out 
her unhappy life in want and tears. So I was thrown 
a waif on the stream of life, to fioat or sink as it hap- 
pened — the butt of scorn and contempt, jeered at and 


28 


THE ANOEL OF THE GHUBGH 


mocked, and buffeted bj all, and pitied bj none, not 
even those whom God hath bidden to be merciful to 
his afflicted ones. During the day I sought the refuge 
of the churches to be freed from the persecution of 
the children, who followed me relentlessly ; and at 
night I slept wherever I could find a place to lay my 
weary, suffering body. To satisfy the cravings of 
hunger, I ate the crumbs that fell from the tables of 
the rich, the scraps that were thrown me by the hand 
of charity, indifferent wliether it were a dog or a 
human being that devoured their scanty offerings. 

“ Passing, as I did, most of my time in the churches, 
I began to study, almost unconsciously, the works of 
art that surrounded me, and dimly, at first, I felt the 
dawning of a new life within me. Some one gave me 
a broken knife, and with the aid of that I cut out of 
soft stone a little figure, a copy of one of the saints 
around the high altar of San Marco. When I first saw 
the likeness to the original, and knew that I possessed 
the power of imitation, I thought I should die of joy. 
I wept, I kissed the feet of the Madonna in the most 
fervent gratitude, and from that moment I entered 
upon another life ; I was never as wretched and lonely 
as I had been before. 

“ One day. Padre Ilario, a monk from San Miniato, 
saw me crouched at the foot of the altar in San Am- 
brogio, carving steadily at a little figure of the Holy 


THE ANGEL OF THE CHURCH. 29 

Mother. My industry, youth, and pitiful deformity 
attracted his attention, and he examined my work with 
great interest, and praised it without stint ; this en- 
couraged me to show him several others which I had 
concealed about ray person. It is true, they were crude 
and imperfect, yet they possessed some merit, and the 
good Father saw it, and was delighted at what he con- 
sidered a precocious talent. 

“ ‘ Have you ever tried to sell them ? ’ he asked. 

“ I replied that I -never had, not dreaming that it 
was possible to receive money for what had been but 
a pastime to me. 

“ ‘ Go to-morrow on the Ponte Yecchio, and sit you 
down where travellers pass most ; be modest and well 
behaved, not too shy, nor too eager, in displaying your 
work, and I wdll wager you that before night you will 
dispose of one or more of your figures. Set no price 
upon them yourself ; leave it to the generosity of the 
buyer, and you will be better paid than you think. 
And if you succeed, forget not to go to the Holy 
Mother and give her thanks for your good fortune.’ 

“ The next morning, at sunrise, I crept out from 
under a vender’s cart — my only bed — and going to the 
nearest fountain, I washed my hands and face as cleanly 
as I could, and -wiped them on a cabbage-leaf thrown me 
by a good-natured market-woman ; dusted and cleaned 
my rags as much as possible, and with my little figures 


30 


THE ANGEL OF THE CHURCH. 


neatly ranged by my side, I seated myself in a con- 
spicuous place and awaited my first customer. But 
alas! my hopes were soon destroyed. I was not 
allowed to remain anj^wliere in peace. Several mis- 
chievous children gathered around me, and with shouts 
and jeers routed me and compelled me to move on. 
During the day I located myself in fifty different 
places. Patient, resolved, and hopeful, I was not over- 
come by the cruel treatment I received, and before 
sunset I had succeeded in disposing of two of my little 
figures — one to a priest for ten soldi^ and the other to a 
•kind-faced lady for two liri. I had never before held a 
liri in my hand, and I was richer than a king upon his 
throne, and happier than any boy in Florence that 
night. Nor did I forget to return thanks to the Madon- 
na. I went to the nearest church, and, falling on my 
knees, I poured out my very soul in thankfulness.” 

“ And did you continue to sell your work ? ” asked 
the lady, deeply interested in Hugo’s narrative. 

“Yes, for a time, until there was not a spot where 
I was not known and greeted with the cry of ‘ Ecco il 
gobho^ ecco il gohbo,^ which was the signal for an attack, 
when I was invariably driven away, sometimes with 
blows, sometimes with my wares utterly ruined. How- 
ever, I managed to exist, until one day a dealer in 
d-hrac, on the Ponte Yecchio, noticing the little figures 
and seeming struck with their accuracy, told me to 


TEE ANGEL OF THE CHURGE. 


31 


bring them to him and he would dispose of them for 
me to better advantage. Since tlien he has bought all 
I can make ; but some are so difficult and take me so 
long to carve, and I get so little for them, that I am 
often hungry. The alto relievo that was destroyed to- 
day I have worked weeks upon, and had about com- 
pleted it ; but now it is gone, and I shall have to go 
huTigry, for God only knows when I can do another, 
seeing I can come into the city no more.” 

‘‘ How much were you to have received for the 
Judith?” 

‘‘ Ten sGvdi, Signora — a fortune to me.” 

The lady drew a heavily fringed purse from her 
pocket, through the meshes of which shone a number 
of gold pieces, and opening it, she counted out fifteen 
scucli, and put them in the hand of the hunchback, 
saying : 

“Take these; here are ten scvdi for your ruined 
work, and five scudi from me as a gift. It will last you 
some time, and when it is gone come to me, and I will 
see how I can help you again.” 

“ O Signora ! you are too good,” and Hugo dropped 
on his knees, and pressed her robe to his lips. 

“ Rise, my friend. Ho not kneel to me ; I am a 
sinner like you. Kneel only to God and the Blessed 
Yirgin. How, tell me, when you leave the city, where 
will you go ? ” 


32 


THE ANGEL OF TEE CHURCH. 


“ To m j little hovel on San Miniato. F ather llario 
allows me to staj there ; it was built for the goats, but 
it is very comfortable, and I am thankful for such a 
shelter,” 

“ If you are in want, and dare not come to me — for 
I had forgotten that you were not to enter the city — 
send Father llario, and I will aid you through him.” 

“Tlianks a thousand times. Signora. Oh, if you 
could but know of half the gratitude that fills my 
heart ! ” 

“ Be grateful to God, then, and not to me ; for if I 
have done aught of good to you, I am your debtor in- 
stead of you being mine.” 

“ You have saved my life,” returned Hugo, shiver- 
ing, “ for I could see only the Arno before me. I had 
resolved to die, being too wretched to live ; and I was 
hastening there when the open door of this church 
bade me enter and pray, before I hurried my poor soul 
into eternity. Your words and deeds of kindness have 
saved me. Henceforth I shall try to live and be patient 
under all my troubles. I shall remember always the 
angel of the church, and pray to the Virgin to bless 
and protect her.” 

‘‘ O my friend ! call me not the angel of the church. 
I am but a poor mortal like thee, with a sorrow that 
neither kind words nor gifts of money can ease. 
Would to God that human sympathy could comfort 


THE ANGEL OF THE CHURCH. 33 

me ; then, perhaps, I should not be so wretched. But 
the day is drawing to a close, and I must finish my 
prayers before I leave this sacred spot. Take this 
ring, and when you need any assistance, send it by a 
trusty messenger, and I will aid you in every way that 
lies within my power.” 

Drawing a slender gold band from her white fin- 
ger, she laid it in Hugo’s palm as she continued : I 
am Contessa Elena Altimonti, and I live in my 
father’s palace on the Lung’ Arno. Now, farewell, 
and may you be happy and prosperous in the future.” 

Hugo leaned against the altar railing and watched 
her as she passed out of sigh? into a side chapel, whither 
she went to pray ; and when the last gleam of her 
pale blue drapery disappeared he sighed heavily, and 
a tear rolled slowly down his cheek. “ God, the Vir- 
gin, and all the holy saints bless her ! ” he exclaimed 
fervently ; then pressing the ring to his lips over and 
over again, he hid it with the gold in his bosom, and 
hobbled away with a lighter heart than that which 
beat in his breast when he entered the church. 

The day was far advanced, and the sun was already 
low in the west, when he paused half-way up the steep 
ascent of San Miniato, and looked back on the city 
below him, with its spires and domes and towers 
painted with dusky gold, from the last rays of the 

departing day 

2 * 


34 


THE ANGEL OF THE CHURCH, 


The Arno flowed peacefully ; the deep, distant mur- 
mur of humanity fell on his ear like the reverberation 
of a mighty organ, and as his eyes wandered away 
toward the purple hills of Fiesole, they softened again 
to tears, and he said in a sad, broken voice : 

The world is beautiful, the city is beautiful, and 
large enough for all. Yes, there is even room for me, 
poor unfortunate though I am, and I want but a small 
place to work, and live and be at peace. I could be 
happy there. Yes, happy, for my Creator has planted 
the seeds of happiness in my heart, in spite of my de- 
formed body, if these miserable children, whom I 
never harmed, did not drive me away because I am 
more wretched than they. I wonder why God made 
life so easy for some and so hard for others ! Why 
did the accident of my birth and my deformity place 
me in abject want and suffering, while others, with 
meaner souls and less appreciation of the true and 
beautiful, live in luxury and refinement ? 

“ 1 am tired and hungry, and I must go to my hut 
among the tombs, and make my supper off the coarsest 
fare, provided me by the bounty of a stranger, while 
the rich eat and drink, and make merry — and yet 1 do 
not hate them now. A little while ago I did ; my 
soul was full of dark passions at my wrongs and suffer- 
ings ; but that angel, the Angel of the Church, dis- 
pelled the demon of despair, and now I love even 


TEE ANOEL OF THE CHURCH. 


35 


those who harmed me. Yes, I love all humanity, and 
if I had the power given me to curse this city that 
refuses me shelter and food and the privilege of toil- 
ing within its walls, I would not. I wish it no harm. 
I only ask to be allowed to live and die in peace.” 

Turning to the golden light of day that still lingered 
in the west, he drew forth the money that he had 
hidden with the ring, and looking furtively around to 
see that no one was near him, he sat down on a stone 
by the wayside, and counted it over and over again, 
pressing each piece to his lips before he returned it to 
his bosom. At last, when he came to the ring, he 
examined it closely, and saw engraven on it the initials 
E. A., and underneath them a coronet, and the legend 
A cruce solus. 

“ She has worn it ! ” he said, kissing it reverently, 
“and it is sacred to me. Her memory will be a con- 
stant blessing. It will still my angry passions ; it will 
make me calm and patient, and inspire me to greater 
perfection in my art. I have not a bad heart — God 
knows I have not, and I would be gentle and peace- 
able, if I was not provoked into frenzy by those little 
demons yonder. O Florence ! O my beloved city ! and 
all thy beauties that I have worshipped, shall I see thee 
no more ? Shall I enter thy gates no more ? Must I 
remain without, like a soul banished from paradise ? 
Father in heaven, this is hard ! O mother ! O sainted 


8G 


THE ANGEL OF THE CHURCH. 


mother! intercede with the Virgin to soften their 
hearts, so that I may return again.” 

Wiping away the tears which bedewed his face plen- 
tifully, and with another long, lingering look into the 
plain below, now one golden river of light from the 
last level beams of day, he turned his weary steps 
again toward the solemn and majestic pile of San 
Miniato al Monte, that rose before him nearly to 
heaven. 

Approaching the Church of San Salvador, he stopped 
suddenly, overcome with a nameless fear, for an object 
prone upon the ground, in the shadow of a cypress, 
attracted his attention, and it bore the mysterious and 
startling outline of a human form, still and rigid, and 
destitute of the flexible curves of sleep or weariness. 

Drawing nearer, his limbs trembling with terror, 
Hugo knelt beside the prostrate form, and in the gath- 
ering darkness discerned that it was a woman with a 
babe in her arms. 

The mother was unconscious, perhaps already dead ; 
but the child was sleeping peacefully, as though it re- 
posed upon a bed of down, with its warm red mouth 
pressed against a breast as cold and white as marble. 

“ Angel of God 1 ” exclaimed the hunchback, kneel- 
ing reverently, and fixing his eyes on the infant with 
a sort of greedy admiration, “how lovely! how 
exquisitely lovely ! What grace ! what innocence ! 


THE ANGEL OF THE CHURCH. 


37 


What softly rounded features ! what matcliless out- 
lines I Oh ! if I might have this cherub for a model, 
I need go no more to the city to copy from the lifeless 
stone.” 

Then bending lower, he peered anxiously into the 
woman’s face, and laid his hand over her heart to dis- 
cover whether it still beat ; but there was no responsive 
throb that he could detect. 

“ She is dead,” he said at length in a hollow whisper, 
and no one will ever know if I take the child. I won- 
der if it will be wrong ? I wonder if she, the Angel of 
the Church, would call it a sin ? hfo ! no ! it cannot be; 
the mother is dead, and will never know if I take the 
child. She is some poor outcast. The society of La 
Misericordia will care for her body, and the babe, if I 
do not take it, will be sent to the foundling hospital. 
So I may as well have it. I will be kind to it, and I 
will not let it suffer for food while my goat yields me 
one cup of milk ; the lovely little angel shall have it all, 
even if I go hungry myself. It is but a little thing, 
and I can feed it, and take care of it by depriving my- 
self, and that 1 do not mind. I am used to self-denial 
and hunger ; and I am so lonely, now that I can go no 
more to the city ; I shall find the days so long and 
dreary, and this little creature will fill my heart, and 
make my gloomy hovel bright and cheerful. None 
will know where to look for it, even if they wish to 


38 


THE ANGEL OF TEE CHURCH. 


claim it. I can hide it in my hut, and model the most 
angelic things f]*om it while it sleeps — and I fancy it 
does sleep most of the time. See how it smiles in its 
dreams, and reaches out its little hands I It is asking 
for love and care — my love and my care, and it shall 
have both. I will give my life to it, my worthless life 
that has so far been only a curse to me. To-day God 
has sent me two angels. Yes, I know he sent the 
Angel of the Church, and perhaps this sweet child 
will be a blessing to me also. I will take it and leave 
the result to God. I do not mean to do wrong. My 
heart craves something to live for, and this child 
seems as helpless and abandoned as I am. How can 1 
leave it here on its dead mother’s breast ? Ho ! 1 must 
take it, and 1 will.” 

Looking stealthily around to see that no one was 
approaching, he snatched the child from the rigid 
embrace of the mother, and fled with it into the dark- 
ness and shadows of night, trembling with the guilty 
consciousness of having robbed the dead. 


THE PALAZZO ALTIMONTl. 


39 


CHAPTEE III. 

THE PALAZZO ALTIMONTI. 

T was an hour after midday, and the Contessa 
Elena Altimonti was receiving her most inti- 
mate friends in a magnificent apartment of 
her father’s palace. For the past six months she had 
been in retirement in the Convent of the Sacred Heart, 
and had but just returned again to the world. 

It had been a subject of considerable discussion in 
the fashionable society of Florence, when the lovely 
young countess declared her intention of quitting the 
pomps and vanities of the wicked world, to immure 
herself for several months within the walls of the con- 
vent where she had been educated. But it was well 
known among her friends that the charming contessa 
was somewhat eccentric, and, at times, piously inclined ; 
and when her father confessor hinted to them that she 
was weary of the folly and excitement of her gay life, 
and desired a time of silent communion with her own 
soul apart from the world, and that it was only natural 
she should return again to the calm and sacred retreat 
that had sheltered her innocent young girlhood, all 
speculation ceased. 




40 


THE PALAZZO ALTIMONTL 


When six months had passed, and she returned 
again to her world of gaudy glitter and hollow pleas- 
ures, all her friends were impressed by the profound 
sadness of her face, as well as her weary, listless air. 
For some reason, the petted child of fashion had lost 
her interest in her former amusements, and declared 
often that she preferred the solemn silence of the clois- 
ter to the gayest ball or carnival, and the holy services 
of the church to the most brilliant opera that had ever 
been performed. 

On this day of which we write, she was to receive 
for the first time since her return, dressed in her usual 
rich and tasteful fashion, which was due, on this occa- 
sion, more to the efforts of her maid than to any wish 
of her own heart. She was beautiful, and she could 
not help knowing it, for she had heard it repeated 
over and over by the gay young nobles who frequented 
her father’s palace to bask for a blissful hour in 
her bright smiles, which she seemed to bestow on all 
alike. 

As she sat at the window of the elegant salon^ one 
elbow resting on a small table before her, and her chin 
pressed in her open palm, her eyes were fixed on the 
distant sky, instead of the garden below, filled with 
fiowers, and musical with the tinkling of fountains, 
whose waters fell over beds of lilies resting on moss 
and fairy-like ferns; and her face had the absorbed, 


THE PALAZZO ALTIMONTL 


41 


absent expression of one whose thoughts were far away 
from the scenes that surrounded her. 

She should have been joyous and light-hearted, 
living as she did in the sunshine of prosperity. 
Young, beautiful, and beloved, what more liad the 
world to give her ? And yet her sad face and abstracted 
manner told plainly that a secret grief was hidden in 
the heart that beat so wearily under her rich robes. 

“ Ah, sweet cousin ! how happy I am to see you 
again in your old place,” cried a young, fresh voice ; 
and a handsome youth entered the room, wdio seized 
the white hands of the Countess, and pressed them 
again and again to his lips. 

‘‘ And I am glad to see you, dear Enrico ! ” returned 
the Countess, rising, with a smile that betrayed some 
pleasure, to receive her visitor. 

“ How could you be so cruel, Elena, as to withdraw 
the light of your presence from us all this while, 
leaving us to pine in darkness while we waited for 
your return ? ” 

‘‘ To try your devotion and affection,” returned the 
lady, at the same time asking her cousin to take a chair 
near her, “for you know we prize the sunlight more 
after many cloudy days, and I wished to see if it 
would be so with my friends ; if, instead of forgetting 
me during my brief absence from them, they would be 
longing for a sight of me again.” 


42 


THE PALAZZO ALTIMONTL 


“ Ah, cousin, you have been too cruel ; and such a 
test were useless, for you well know that we think but 
of you, and worship you, whether present or absent.” 

“ The old story, Enrico — flattery and protestations ; 
and I presume you love me not a whit better for it all. 
A little cool, calm friendship would please me better 
now, not having listened to these extravagances for 
some time.” 

‘‘ Of course, Elena, it is the old story ; what else can 
it be ? ” cried the young man passionately. “ You well 
know I adore you. But of what use, seeing I am poor 
and your father would wed you to a rich husband ? ” 

“ Which he never will do with my consent,” re- 
turned the Countess flrmly. “ Enrico, I am resolved 
never to marry, and at times I think seriously of 
devoting myself to a religious life.” 

Oh, say not so, cousin ; that would be impossible. 
You are not in the least fltted for such a vocation ; why, 
you would beat yourself to death against your prison 
bars in a little while.” 

“ Nay, Enrico, for I would have no desire for free- 
dom ; the peaceful calm of the cloister suits me now 
better than the tumult of the gay world.” 

“ How so, sweet cousin ? You were not inclined to 
such a life a short while ago. I remember when you 
were the merriest of us all.” 

“ Yes, it is true, 1 was merry once ; but we all 


THE PALAZZO ALTIMONTI. 


43 


change, and the gay become grave, and the grave gay. 
I am but obeying a law of nature. However, we will 
not talk so sadly on this our first meeting after my ab- 
sence. Tell me something of the gay world, of what 
has happened these last six months.” 

“ A great deal must have happened certainly, but I 
made no note of passing events while you were gone. 
I thought only of you night and day.” 

“ Foolish again, Enrico. How tell me, how is the 
pretty little Marchesa whom you admired so ardently 
six months ago % ” 

“ The Marchesa ? Oh ! that is all over. It is true, 
I admired her, but only en jpassant. She is ■ be- 
trothed to the old Count Artiloni, and is to be married 
soon.” 

Poor child ! I am sorry for her,” said Elena with a 
sigh. 

“ Sorry ? — pray tell me why. He is rich and has one 
of the finest palaces in Florence.” 

“ That may be, but it is the greater cause for pity, 
for it plainly shows that she has sold her youth and 
beauty to his old age and decrepitude for sordid gain — 
for gold and jewels.” 

“ But the world does not look at it in that way,” 
cried Enrico astonished. 

‘‘ Ho, perhaps not, for the world has only eyes for its 
own interests, and gold and pomp is the god it wor- 


44 


TEE PALAZZO ALTIMONTL 


ships. O Enrico ! I would rather be the veriest beggar 
than to so degrade myself.” 

“ And yet, Elena, rumor says that you are about to 
practise what you so strongly condemn.” 

“ I ? — how so ? ” cried the Countess in astonishment. 

“ Then you do not know that the Duke of Castellara 
has returned.” 

“ My God ! is that true ? ” 

Yes, he came back a few days ago, wearied enough 
with his diplomatic mission at Vienna ; and they say 
he has renewed his suit for your hand, and that the 
Count, your father, looks favorably upon his proposi- 
tion.” 

“ I have heard nothing of it, and I scarce think such 
an arrangement can be made without consulting me,” 
replied the Countess proudly. 

‘‘It would appear so,” said Enrico thoughtfully; 
“and yet you know my uncle’s character. Even you, 
his only child, whom he loves to distraction, have no 
power to change him when he has once decided on any 
course.” 

“ Yes, that is true,” sighed Elena. “ Alas ! 1 know 
too well how vain it is to try to move him.” 

“ Your sad experience of a year ago with the young 
English lord taught you that. There seemed to be no 
reason for refusing his suit ; he w^as both rich and noble, 
and, Elena, I always thought you loved him.” 


TUE PALAZZO ALTIMONTl. 45 

“ I did, cousin,” replied the Countess in a low voice, 
turning awaj her head to conceal her dreadful pallor. 
“ And I entreated my father on my knees to allow me 
to become his wife, but he refused his consent coldly 
and sternly, in spite of my tears and prayers.” 

Poor Elena ! ” said Enrico tenderly. “ It almost 
broke your heart, 1 well know, for you have never 
since been the same.” 

“ It was, indeed a cruel blow, for I loved him as I 
never shall love another. And when I heard of his 
death a few months ago, I felt that I could not sur- 
vive him; but I am still living, for the young and 
healthy cannot die, even thougli their hearts are 
crushed and withered.” 

‘‘Elena, did you ever suspect that he was unfairly 
dealt with ? ” 

“ Hush ! for God’s sake, cousin ; you do not mean — 
no ! you cannot mean that his life was sacrificed to my 
father’s ambition.” 

“ Ho, cousin, not to your father’s ambition, but to 
the vengeance of the Duke of Castellara, who could 
not forgive him for being your accepted lover. lie 
lingered in Florence so long after the refusal of his 
suit, that, perhaps, the Duke feared you miglit flee with 
him to England, in spite of your father’s commands.” 

“ But you remember tlie manner of his death ? ” 

“ Certainly ; he was attacked by brigands in a pass 


46 


THE PALAZZO ALTIMONTL 


of the Apennines, and was shot down after a gallant 
defence; all Florence rang with the story of his 
bravery.” 

Then, in Heaven’s name, how could the Duke of 
Castellara have had anything to do with this tragic 
and fearful death among the mountains ; for at that 
very time the Duke was here, persecuting me with his 
hateful attentions.” 

“ God knows, cousin, I do not wish to accuse any 
man of a crime that he may be innocent of ; but it is 
my opinion, and it may remain a secret between us, that 
the brigands in the mountain pass were no brigands at 
all, but minions of the Duke, hired to take the life of 
your lover!” 

‘‘ Holy Mother in Heaven ! and my father would 
sacrifice me to the monster who has murdered the 
only man I have ever loved ! O Enrico 1 this is too 
terrible.” 

“ Hush ! dear cousin, calm yourself ; for visitors may 
arrive at any moment, and you would not wish them 
to witness your agitation.” 

“ Ah ! it is easy to bid me be calm ; but if jon could 
see the tempest raging within my soul, you would know 
how impossible it is for me to follow your advice. En- 
rico, dear cousin, I am most unhappy ? I am terrified at 
the gulf before me, and my past haunts me ceaselessly. 
This world has no further happiness for me ; fashion 



THE PALAZZO ALTIMONTL 


47 


and splendor are but empty words ; wealth I do not 
value, unless I can use it for the good of others. Life 
has lost its savor ; at twenty I am old and weary ; 
then, wdiy should I linger in a world that has nothing 
to give me ? Is it not true that the cloister is a fitting 
place for me ? ” 

“ Ah ! poor Elena,’’ returned Enrico, wiping away a 
sudden tear. “ If I could make you happy, I would 
gladly give my life to do so, for it is worthless when 
3’ou suffer; but I can do nothing, save to kneel at 
your dear feet and offer you my heart’s unselfish de- 
votion, my friendship, my brotherly love. You must 
bear your burden as you best can, trusting to me to 
lighten it all that lies within my power. 

“ Thank you, my dear friend — my brother, if you 
will. Now that I know I have one true heart to lean 
upon, I will try and live, if not for myself, for others. 
Only yesterday, I thought it would be possible for me 
to still find some happiness on earth, for I saw another 
more wretched than myself, whose sorrow I softened 
and whose tears I dried.” 

Sweet cousin, it may be your mission on earth to 
make others happier through your angelic ministra- 
tion ; but tell me, pray, who was the happy recipient 
of your kindness.” 

One wdio needed it, Enrico. At Ave Maria I went 
to Santo Spirito to pray, and just as I was about to 


48 


I'HE PALAZZO ALTIMONTL 


kneel, I heard such heartrending sobs near me, that I 
turned to see who was in such bitter trouble ; and 
there, prone before the altar, I saw a poor, deformed 
creature, weeping and praying pitifully. 1 spoke to 
him gently, and he raised a sorrow-stricken face to 
mine — such a pained, worn face as 1 never saw before ; 
it has haunted me ever since with its patient, resigned 
expression — like that of a poor animal that has re- 
ceived only blows and cruelty, and expects nothing else.’^ 
“ Ah ! he was happy, cousin, to receive your sweet 
sympathy. Tell me, pray, what was the cause of his 
grief, for all that interests you finds a responsive echo 
in my own heart.” 

He told me such a tale of wrong and injustice that 
my very soul burned with indignation. Think of it, 
Enrico, he is frightfully deformed, utterly friendless 
and poor, abandoned by his father, who betrayed and 
deserted his mother, and left her to die in poverty of a 
broken heart. He is an artist, and only asks to be 
allow^ed to work in peace at his humble occupation, 
which is copying in stone the statues in the squares 
and churches ; but the children about the streets tor- 
ment him so, that he cannot remain long enough in 
one place to complete his work. Sometimes, he con- 
fesses that his temper gets the better of him, and that 
he resents the indignities heaped upon him. Yester- 
day an officer came upon him just as he was about to 


TBE PALAZZO ALTIMONTI. 


49 


punish a child who had tormented him beyond all 
endurance, and instead of chastising the real offenders, 
this minion of the government threatened the poor 
hunchback with prison, if he did not leave the city at 
once, thereby depriving the suffering creature from 
earning his daily bread in the only way that he can. 
Such injustice filled me with contempt for those who 
have authority over the weak and helpless. Is there 
no way, cousin, in our good city, where God has given 
us so much, that the poor and defenceless can be pro- 
tected against such cruel oppression % ” 

“ You ask me a question difficult to answer, Elena. 
Tlie poor are powerless in the hands of the rich. We 
cannot change the state of society ; only such angels as 
yourself can, with saintly charity, soften a little their 
hard lot.” 

“ Ah ! if I could but devote myself to such a work 
in peace. If my father would permit me to remain as 
I am, I think I might be good and patient ; but, 
Enrico, 1 feel that there are slumbering fires in me 
that may burst forth at any moment. If lam com- 
pelled to marry the Duke of Castellara, I am lost; my 
nature — my very soul, rebels against it, and if I am 
sacrificed to his ambition and pride, it will not be the 
soul of Elena Altimoiiti that will inhabit my wretched 
body, but a cruel demon that will avenge my ruined 

life on all mankind.” 

3 


60 


THE PALAZZO ALTIMONTI. 


“ Hush ! hush ! dear cousin, do not speak such 
dreadful words ! ” cried Enrico, springing to her side, 
and taking her cold hands in his, for she had fallen 
back in her chair, pale and exhausted from her strong 
emotion. 

‘‘ They may seem terrible, but they are truthful ! ” 
she returned, looking at him steadily with gloomy 
eyes. It is the protest of my better nature against 
such a sacrilege ; and you, my cousin, can bear witness 
in the futurp, that on this day I was truthful, charita- 
ble, and even patient and resigned under my sorrow ; 
that I would have lived a good life if I could have 
done so ; that I would have been gentle, humble, and 
holy, if my father had not forced me to marry a 
demon.” 

But, cousin, he has not done so yet ; rumor may 
be false.” 

“ Ho, it is not. I have a premonition of my fate. I 
was separated from the man I loved, to be given to 
Castellara, because he is richer and more powerful 
than the other — because he is Ferdinand’s favorite and 
a duke.” 

“ But you can resist your father’s wishes ; you can 
rebel against his authority. There is no law to compel 
you to obedience.” 

“ Alas ! Enrico, I know too well how useless it is to 
struggle against his will ! I am doomed to become the 


THE PALAZZO ALTIMONTL 


61 


wife of a man I abhor. 1 have opened my heart to 
you, but it cannot in any way change my lot. I may 
as well submit to the inevitable without a murmur. 
You only have listened to the meanings of my lieart, 
and you will keep my secret. When you see me in 
the gay world apparently happy and contented, you 
will know then that my soul is but a chaos of sin and 
misery, and you will pity me and remember this hour. 
Hark ! there are carriage-wheels in the court ; visitors 
are arriving, and they must not find the Countess 
Elena sad and distraite^ or they will think that I mourn 
for my dead lover — and that is not allowed in this false 
world.” 

Enrico gave his hand to his cousin, his eyes full of 
sorrow and his heart heavy with her trouble. You 
know you can always count on my fidelity and love,” 
he said, in a broken voice ; and then, with a tendei 
pressure of her cold fingers, he turned away and left 
her alone, as proud and calm as though no mighty 
wave of emotion had ever swept over her soul. 

The day before, at that very hour, she had stood in 
the Church of Santo Spirito, and Hugo had called her 
an angel ; but now the haughty face and mien bore 
little resemblance to the divinely compassionate figure 
that had bent over him then. 

Standing in stately dignity in the centre of the ele- 
gant aalon. her beautiful form in its satin drapery 


52 


THE DUKE OF CA8TELLARA. 


reflected from a dozen mirrors, gold and glitter around 
her, the air heavy with the perfume of flowers, strains 
of distant music mingled with rippling of the fountains 
soothing her soul with its tender melody, she calmly 
awaited the new-comer, whose footsteps she heard with- 
out, as two liveried footmen, with great ceremony, threw 
open the door and announced his highness, the Duke of 
Castellara. 


CHAPTEK lY. 

THE DUKE OF CASTELLARA. 

Duke of Castellara had passed by some 
lars the meridian of life, although he did 
►t appear an old man, being of a fine, tall 
figure, smooth, florid complexion, and quick, vigorous 
movements. His well-shaped head was covered with 
thick, closely-cut gray hair, and a heavy moustache, well 
silvered, partially concealed his mouth, which was 
coarse, cruel, and sensual in expression, while his heavy 
jaw and muscular neck denoted in no small degree the 
animal in his nature, which was fully confirmed by the 
tigerish glitter of his small, steel-colored eyes. 

Although the favorite of the Grand Duke Ferdinand 



THE DUKE OF CASTELLABA. 


63 


was called a handsome man by the fair sex, he was not 
exactly pleasant to look upon, and generally inspired 
more awe and admiration than affection. Ilis reputa- 
tion as a diplomat, officer, and gentleman was good ; 
but his private character was execrable, in spite of the 
care which he took to conceal his dark doings. There 
was scarce ever a duel fought, a young wife dishonored, 
a maiden betrayed, that his highness, the Duke of Castel- 
lara, was not at the bottom of It ; and it was well known 
in Florence that he never tolerated a rival, either hus- 
band or lover. Being utterly unscrupulous and pos- 
sessed of enormous wealth, he found means of disposing 
of those who came between him and his desires in a man- 
ner that, though it did not place a public stigma upon 
him, was talked over and well understood in private. 

Many a noble lady of Florence, in spite of his evil 
character, had coveted his title, wealth, jewels, and 
palaces ; but he had reached his fiftieth year without 
conferring them upon any one, though it was said that 
Ferdinand had selected more than one exa^WQni parti 
for him, which he had firmly declined, preferring his 
freedom to the most honorable alliance that could be 
bestowed upon him. 

A few years before the opening of our story, the 
young Countess Elena Altimonti had flashed suddenly 
upon the fashionable world of Florence, fresh from the 
sombre shades of the convent where her childhood and 


64 


THE DUKE OF CA8TELLAEA. 


girlhood had been passed, owing to the death of her 
mother shortly after her birth. 

Her surpassing beauty, her grace, her wit, had placed 
her at once on the very summit of popularity, and, 
before she had been in society one season, she was de- 
clared the reigning belle, the adorable Contessa, the 
sweetest flower, the brightest gem that had ever adorned 
the fair city of the YaV d^Arno. 

Among her most devoted suitors, and the first in 
the field, was the Duke of Castellara; but, strange to 
say, the young beauty was not at all dazzled either by 
his wealth, title, or person, and treated him with less 
consideration than she did her very humblest lover. 

Before her first season was over, a young English- 
man, Lord Challonner, appeared on the fashionable 
horizon, who bade fair to rival the Duke in the favor 
of the queen of beauty. He was young, handsome, 
brave, generous, and rich, though his wealth could not 
compare with the Castellara estate ; however, he was 
not a suitor to be despised by the most aspiring 
maiden. 

Humor did not couple the young lord’s name par- 
ticularly with that of the Contessa Elena Altimonti, 
for all masculine Florence was at her feet, and it was 
difficult to fix upon any one who received marked 
favor. Suddenly the pulse of the gay world beat 
more quickly with the news that the Duke of Castel- 


THE DUKE OF GA8TELLABA. 


55 


lara had ofPered himself to the proud beauty, and had 
been refused. 

“ Can you imagine such a thing ? ” cried more than 
one intriguing mamma. “ They say she has actually 
refused Castellara. What presumption ! a chit of a 
girl, with little besides lier title, to refuse the favorite 
of Ferdinand — a duke — and a rental of more than half 
a million scudi — why, she must be insane ! ” 

The young nobles gathered apart and discussed it, 
secretly glad that at last their insolent rival had re- 
ceived a check to his ambitious hopes. “ However, it 
is no use to congratulate ourselves,” said a young 
marchese to Enrico Altimonti. “Your cousin will 
finish % marrying him. Castellara is invincible and 
irrepressible ; he never sets his mind on anything 
but what he succeeds in getting it. Why, it is even 
said that he had the impudence to bid against the 
Grand Duke’s equerry at the sale of a horse, though he 
well knew his royal master wanted it. Oh, his confi- 
dence is something sublime. I would wager my roan 
mare against your new landeau that he will ultimately 
win her consent.” 

“Time will show,” replied Enrico, turning away 
with flushed cheeks and angry eyes. 

Hot long after the startling rumor of the Duke’s re- 
fusal had died out, another of hardly less interest set 
the tongues of all the gossips wagging. Lord Challon- 


56 TEE DUKE OF CASTELLABA, 

ner had offered himself to the Contessa. Whether he 
had been accepted by her, no one knew ; but it was 
generally understood that her father, Count Altimonti, 
had received his proposition with scorn, and refused 
him his daugliter’s hand in the most decided manner, 
forbidding him the entree to his palace, and even 
going so far as to prohibit all intercourse between 
them in society. 

lie is reserving her for Castellara,” said the 
worldly wise. “ The old Count is clever ; he will not 
allow his daughter to wed a lord when she may be- 
come a duchess.” 

But, as the lovely Contessa appeared in society as 
gay and beautiful as ever, and as she seerned to 
avoid Lord Challoner, the idea gained ground that her 
affections had not been in the least involved, and that 
she too shared her father’s ambitious schemes, and had 
only refused the Duke out of girlish caprice, being 
sure that he would return again a willing captive to 
her charms. 

One day the news reached Florence that Lord Chal- 
lonner had been shot by brigands in one of the Apen- 
nine passes, during a short excursion from Florence in 
the company of a party of English people. 

This sudden and tragic taking off of one who had 
been a favorite in the best society of the city caused 
a great deal of excited discussion. Why had he alone 


THE DUKE OF CASTE LL AHA. 


57 


been singled out. for the murderer’s cruel blow, and the 
others allowed to escape without even being held for a 
ransom ? There was a mystery about it all that no one 
could solve ; but gradually people ceased to talk or 
think of it, for a new subject claimed their attention. 
The Duke of Castellara had been sent by Ferdinand 
on a diplomatic mission to Yienna, and the Contessa 
Elena had gone into retirement during his absence. 
So for six months these important personages dropped 
out of their little world, and were almost as seldom 
spoken of as though they had never existed. 

However, the wheel of time slowly and surely 
revolved, and brought the Duke and the Contessa 
Elena again to the surface of society. The fair re- 
cluse came forth from her retirement lovelier than ever, 
because of the gentle melancholy that invested her 
with a new charm, adding a little mystery to what 
before was as clear and bright as day. 

Scarce had her serene beauty beamed again on the 
happy hearts of her adorers, when the Duke of 
Castellara appeared in their midst, as gay and alert, 
as confident and insolent as ever, and the lesser stars 
drew aside with diminished lustre, convinced that their 
ascendancy was over, and their waning light quenched 
in his superior brilliancy. 

When the Duke of Castellara was so unexpectedly 

announced to the Contessa Elena, after the departure 
3 * 


68 


THE DUKE OF CA8TELLABA. 


of her cousin, she turned deathly pale, and could 
scarcely control her agitation. However, her pride 
came to her aid, and she succeeded in returning his 
courtly greeting with her usual calm and graceful 
manner. 

“How the sun shines for me again,” cried the 
duke, pressing his lips gallantly to her hand, and bow- 
ing almost to the ground. “ And I have not seen it 
since I last looked upon your lovely face ; so you may 
know how welcome it is to me.” 

“ Indeed ! then is it always dark in the gay city of 
Yienna? I had thought the sun shone there as it does 
everywhere else,” returned the Contessa coldly, as she 
seated herself and toyed with her fan carelessly. 

“Ah! yes, for others, but not for me. Your smile 
is the only sunlight that gladdens my eyes,” said the 
Duke, as he drew a chair near her and slowl}^ seated 
himself, regarding her closely all the time. 

“ Your remark is not original, Duke. I heard the 
same sentiment, expressed in almost the same lan- 
guage, not a half-hour ago.” 

“ Ah 1 then some other adorer has been here before 
me. I hoped to be the first to welcome you,” replied 
the Duke in low, even tones, still searching her face 
with his cold, glittering eyes. 

For a moment neither spoke; then the Duke, bend- 
ing nearer and raising his glass, said with meaning : 


THE DUKE OF CASTELLARA, 


59 


“ It seems to me, Contessa, that yoiir retirement has not 
quite agreed with you. You are lovelier than ever, a 
thousand times more adorable, but there is a slight 
shade over your beauty that was once so dazzling 
that we poor mortals could scarce look at it. You are. 
a little paler, a little distraite^ a little melancholy — is 
it not so ? ” 

Since your highness has done me the honor to 
inspect me so closely, you are surely able to judge for 
yourself,” returned the Contessa, rising with a hot 
flush and seating herself on a sofa at a little distance. 

With imperturbable gravity and coolness, the Duke 
rose and seated himself by her side, while he made an 
effort to take her hand. 

Duke, you forget yourself ! ” cried Elena hotly, her 
• pale face burning and her eyes flashing defiance into 
his. I pray that you will return to your former seat. 
Your familiarity is insulting.” 

“ Ah ! sweet Elena, what severe words you use. 
Do you not know that I am here as your accepted 
husband, that within an hour your father consented to 
my proposition and promised me your hand % ” 

“ Duke, I beg that you will listen to me, and permit 
this interview, on a subject I dislike, to be final.” 

The Duke silently bowed. 

I regret to be obliged to repeat to you what I said 
a year ago, but you compel me to do so. My father 


60 


TEE DUKE OF CASTELLABA, 


cannot dispose of my hand without my consent, and 
that I refuse, as I did then — decidedly, irrevocably.’’ 

Pardon me, Contessa, for renewing a subject so 
disagreeable to yon. I hoped ere this your views had 
changed, and that you would be disposed to obey your 
father and make me the happiest of mortals ; but I 
perceive you are as little inclined to listen to me now 
as you were then.” 

‘‘ As little, and even less, your highness,” returned 
Elena coldly. 

“ But the reason that decided you to refuse me then 
does not now exist.” 

“ I do not understand,” and the Contessa raised her 
head proudly. “ Pray do not speak in riddles ; I hate 
all that is obscure.” 

“ And I also.” 

“ Then explain your remark.” 

“ I said the reason does not exist.” 

“ What reason ? ” 

“ I will repeat the remark ; the reason that decided 
you to refuse my offer of a year ago.” 

“ This fencing with your words is not agreeable to 
me,” replied the Contessa, rising suddenly and turning 
her back upon her tormentor, while she looked stead- 
ily from the window. 

“ Ah ! now, my sweet lady, do not affect to misunder- 
stand me,” said the Duke, following her. Pray be 


THE DUKE OP GASTELLARA. 


61 


seated again, and I will make my words plainer, but 
perhaps less pleasant.” 

Elena suffered him to lead her to a chair, where she 
seated herself in haughty silence. 

“Since the reason does not exist,” continued the 
Duke in his hard polished tones. 

“ But the reason does exist ! ” interrupted the Con- 
tessa, with a sudden burst of emotion, “ and it is my 
aversion to you — I do not love you. I repeat what I 
said a year ago.” 

“ A year ago, it is true, you did not love me, because 
you loved another.” 

Elena turned deathly pale, but made no reply. 

“ A year ago,” continued the Duke in his icy tones, 
“ you loved Lord Challonner.” 

“ How dare you make such an assertion ? What 
authority have you for it ? ” 

“ Tour retirement from the world after his death, 
your pale cheek, your sad air.” 

The Contessa shivered slightly and looked resolutely 
away from the demon before her. 

“ Do not avert your lovely eyes. I see that I have 
guessed the truth. You loved him and you mourn for 
him still.” 

“ Yes, you are right. I loved him and I mourn for 
him still,” cried Elena, pressing her hand over her 
lips to keep back her sobs. 


62 


TEE DUKE OF CA8TELLARA, 


“ At last, then, we have arrived at the true reason for 
your refusal of my hand.” 

Having loved him, could 1 marry his murderer, 
think you ? ” and the Contessa turned her flashing 
eyes, from which the tears had dried, full upon the 
Duke, as though she would read his very soul. 

For a moment his insolent gaze fell beneath her 
searching look ; then, smiling cruelly and sarcastically, 
he said : “ Pray do not speak in riddles. I hate all 
that is obscure.” 

My words, Duke, are not as obscure as the manner 
of his death, or the mystery surrounding it.” 

I was not aware that there was any mystery. 1 
have understood that he was killed by brigands — a 
common enough occurrence, I think, in this country.” 

“ On the contrary, a most unheard-of thing in such a 
place. They must have been hired to do it by some 
one who desired his death.” 

“And if any one did such a deed for love of you, 
could not you forgive him, and return such a passion ? ” 

“ My God ! what a monstrous thought. Do not tor- 
ture my ears with such words. I fear you. I hate 
you, and I pray you to leave my presence ! ” cried 
Elena, beside herself at this horrible question. 

“Calm yourself, Contessa, I am but jesting; and 
rest assured I had nothing whatever to do with the 
death of your lover,” said the Duke, soothingly. 


THE DUKE OF CA8TELLARA. 


63 


“ I implore you to leave me,” continued Elena, now 
pale and weeping, “ or you will compel me to retire 
from your presence.” 

“ As you will,” and the Duke, bowing low, turned 
toward the door. “For the present, I will leave you, 
since you wish it ; but I pray that you will endeavor to 
overcome your repugnance to me, as it will be decid- 
edly uncomfortable when I am your husband.” 

The Contessa pressed her hands together, striving to 
recover her composure as she said, with forced calmness : 
“ Once for all, Duke, let us end this. You will never 
be my husband; my very soul revolts against the 
thought. I will defy 'my father — aye, all the world, to 
force such a bond upon me. You cannot wed me 
without my consent, and that I will never give.” 

“ Pardon me for contradicting you, Contessa, and 
allow me to say that you will consent ; that before 
another day is gone you will give me your hand of 
your own free will. The Duke of Castellara is not 
used to being thwarted in his dearest wishes, blow, 
farewell, until you summon me to your side as your 
accepted suitor.” 

Elena stood upright in the centre of the room, cold, 
rigid, and silent, until the door closed upon the demon 
who had so tortured her; then, with a wild cry, she 
sank down in a heap on the rich carpet, and lay pant- 
ing and weeping in an agony of grief. 


64 


THE DUKE OF GASTELLARA. 


Scarce had the footsteps of the Duke of Castellara 
died away in the distance, before an inner door that 
led to the salon opened, and an old man, with slightly 
bowed figure, thin, gray hair, and pale, worn, resolute 
face, softly entered. 

He paused for a moment on the threshold, with the 
door still open behind him, seeming irresolute whether 
to advance or retire ; then, with a glance of infinite 
pity, that changed instantly into a hard, stubborn look, 
he came towards the weeping girl, and leaning over her, 
lifted her tenderly in his arms, while he said somewhat 
sternly : 

“ What is the meaning of this unseemly grief, 
Elena r’ 

The sound of her father’s voice appeared to soothe 
the Contessa instantly, for, leaning her Jiead against the 
Count’s shoulder, and pressing his hand to her heart, 
she said between her sobs : “ It must have been a 
frightful dream, and now, my father, you are here, 
and it is gone.” 

‘‘What has happened, what was a dream?” asked 
her father, with a puzzled look. 

“ This dreadful interview with the Duke of Castel- 
lara. It surely could not have been real ? ” 

“Are you insane, child? What could there be 
dreadful in a visit from the Duke ? Why, every lady 
in Florence welcomes him with outstretched hands ? ” 


THE DUKE OF ’GA8TELLABA. 65 

“Ah! now I am convinced that it is real, since 
you know of it and have allowed it,” cried Elena, 
weeping again. “ Oh ! my father, how could you por- 
mit him to torment me so ? A year ago I begged you 
to spare me such torture again.” 

“ What strong words you use, child ? Why should 
it torture you to listen to the Duke ? Other women 
would be flattered by his preference.” 

“ Other women do not hate and loathe him as I 
do.” 

“ I pray you to moderate your expressions ; they are 
too severe.” 

“ But, my father, they are not stronger than my 
aversion.” 

“Why should you hate the Duke of Castellara? 
He loves you, and has but told you so ; surely that is a 
strange reason for hating him.” 

“ He persecutes me, he insults me when he talks of 
his love.” 

“ This is childish folly, Elena, and you know not 
what you are saying.” 

“ Alas ! I know too well ; my poor heart speaks 
through my lips.” 

“ It is an honor that you are insane to refuse. What 
prouder destiny could you ask than to be the Duchess 
of Castellara — the wife of Ferdinand’s favorite?” 

“ Father, father, I implore yon — you who know the 


66 


THE DUKE OF CA8TELLABA, 


secret of my unhappy love, not to speak of my wed- 
ding another.” 

Miserable child, will you allow that romantic folly 
to ruin all your prospects in life ? ” 

How can you call it a folly ? It was part of my 
being, and it lives now within my heart.” 

“ Then I advise you to kill it as soon as possible, for 
it can do you no good to nourish it and keep it alive 
with your tears.” 

‘‘Listen to me, father. Wlien you refused my 
prayer to allow me to wed the man I loved, I sub- 
mitted to your will ; I obeyed you outwardly, but my 
love still remained. His death removed him from the 
path of your ambition, and now you think you can 
tear his image from my heart and replace it by an- 
other; but you are mistaken. I shall never love again, 
and I shall never become the wife of any man.” 

Count Altimonti turned fearfully pale as his daugh- 
ter’s words fell on his ears, and the nervous clasp of 
his hands told how deep was his emotion ; but he 
replied as calmly as though she had made a remark of 
little importance. 

“ Elena, my poor child, our wills seem to come into 
constant conflict. Whatever I wish, whatever I know 
to be for your best good, is sure to meet with opposi- 
tion from you. How, be calm and listen to reason. 
Granted that you loved Lord Challonner, and that I 


THE DUKE OF GA8TELLARA. 


67 


refused my sanction to your union with him — that you 
obeyed me, and that afterwards he died — is there any 
reason in all that why you should not marry now ? 
Why, even the most devoted wife will lay aside her 
weeds for a new love. It seems to me that this maid- 
enly grief is unbecoming.” 

“ Nay, father, do not taunt me. God knows that, 
next to my duty to you, it is the holiest feeling of my 
heart. I will obey you in aught else, but do not ask 
me to give my hand in marriage, especially to the Duke 
of Castellara, whom I hate with my whole soul.” 

“ Elena, the time has come at last — the hour that I 
have dreaded for years, when I must tell you the 
truth. I hoped your acquiescence to my wishes would 
have spared me the humiliation of this moment. You 
have believed your father to be rich ; you have thought 
this palace, these pictures, this costly furniture, the 
plate and jewels, belonged to me, but they do not ; all 
that I call mine in the world belongs to the Duke of 
Castellara.” 

“ My God, is this true ? ” cried Elena. 

“ Yes, it is true, fearfully true ; and now, when you 
refuse to listen to his proposal, I see what a fearful gulf 
yawns before me.” 

What can I do — how can I help you ? Alas ! I 
know not.” 

By becoming the wife of the Duke. The day you 


68 


THE DUKE OF CASTELLARA. 


consent to be his, he will destroy every proof of my in- 
debtedness to him ; he will restore my property to me, 
and I shall be a free and happy man again.” 

“ And I the most wretched of slaves. O father ! the 
sacrifice is too much.” 

“ Listen to the other side of my humiliating story. 
If you refuse. Count Altimonti and his lovely and ac- 
complished daugTiter will be turned out upon the 
world helpless beggars.” 

‘‘ Ah ! my father, I would a thousand times prefer 
poverty — even beggary — to becoming his wife.” 

“ But your father’s honor — have you no thought of 
that ? The proud name of Altimonti will be dragged 
through the mire, the palace of his ancestors will pass 
into the hands of strangers, and he will have no other 
refuge than the grave.” 

“ Can the Duke of Castellara buy me at such a 
price ? Can he make the father’s misfortune a means 
of winning the wretched reluctant daughter ? Oh, he 
is a greater monster than I thought him ! ” 

“ Hush, my child ; he loves you, and he will not be 
thwarted. Had you listened kindly to his proposals, 
and accepted him voluntarily, he would not have re- 
sorted to such means : as it is, he is resolved to gain 
your consent or complete my ruin.” 

“ O father ! is there no way of escape ? Cannot you 
free yourself from his power without sacrificing me ? 


THE DUKE OF CASTE LLARA. 


69 


I will bear any lot patiently, however humble, if you 
will but spare me this dreadful fate.” 

There is no way, my child. We are helpless in his 
hands, and you exaggerate your position. The Duke 
offers you the greatest honor that can be conferred 
upon you. • Your life will be one triumph, and you 
will be happy in having done your duty, in having 
saved your father from a dishonored grave.” 

“ Say no more, I implore you. Do with me as you 
will — I am ready for the sacritice ; but, my father, 
never reproach me if you see forever before you, in- 
stead of the Elena you have loved, but a wretched 
mockery of her image, a body without a heart, a crea- 
ture destitute of one noble impulse ; for, to become the 
wife of the Duke of Castellara, I must kill all that is 
good in my nature; every tender emotion, every holy 
thought, must be torn from my wretched, suffering 
soul, and instead of a gentle, loving woman, I shall be 
changed into a cruel, reckless creature, unloved by all 
and despised most by myself.” 

“ My poor child, your recent sorrow has unnerved 
you, and you take a morbid view of everything. 
When you are the Duchess of Castellara you will 
think differently, and will be ready to bless me for 
showing you your duty and saving you from your- 
self.” 

“ God grant that it may be so. I am doing my duty, 


70 


FIORDILISA. 


you say, and that should be enough to insure my hap- 
piness. Write to the Duke of Castellara, and say that 
he was not wrong when he told me 1 would recall him 
to my side as my accepted suitor. Tell him to come. 
I consent, I consent ! ” and, with a sob of anguish, the 
unhappy girl fell back in her father’s arms uncon- 
scious. 


CHAPTER Y. 


FIOEDILISA. 


IHEN Hugo fled in the gathering twilight, with 
I the infant he had taken from the dead 
woman whom he found near the Church of 
San Salvador, his only thought was to reach the shelter 
of his hovel on San Miniato as quickly as possible. 
Without looking behind him, he hurried up the steep 
hill, breathless, trembling, guilty, for, now that he had 
really done the deed, he wished it undone and the 
child safely back on its mother’s bosom. It seemed to 
him that footsteps were pattering after him ; that the 
very air was full of horror, beating on his ears with a 
strange, low plaint, as though a mother mourned for 
her first-born and would not be comforted. 

But the child slept peacefully on his breast, its 



FIORDILISA. 


71 


warm little face pressed to his poor heart, that had 
never throbbed before with such tender emotion. 
Already he seemed to love it ; his desolate life needed 
something to render its burden endurable. Then, 
what sin was there in his caring for this motlierless 
infant ? 

Suddenly a figure appeared to stand before him, 
clad in soft, light drapery, with golden hair falling 
away from its face, and eyes filled with divine love 
and compassion. Was it the Holy Yirgin, who was 
thus barring his way, or was it a vision of the Angel of 
the Church % The sweet face, as he looked, seemed to 
change from pity to rebuke, and one hand pointed to 
the city he had left behind him — to the dead woman 
lying under the cypress near San Salvador. 

Hugo was a creature of impulse, and, as most of his 
countrymen, superstitious to folly. Although he w^as 
sure that this vision before him was only visible to his 
mental eyes, yet it seemed to him as though he had 
really seen the Angel of the Church, and she had 
spoken to him reproachfully and warningly. 

Stopping, like a wild animal suddenly brought to 
bay in its flight from its pursuers, he would liave 
turned and retraced his steps, but already he heard a 
murmur of voices behind him. Some monks were 
creeping slowly up the hill, in the shadows of the 
cypress trees, and they evidently had passed the dead 


•72 


:b'iobdili8a. 


woman witliout seeing her. He dared not meet these 
holy men with the evidence of his theft in his arms. 
So, instead of turning back, he hurried on faster than 
before, and did not pause again until he reached the 
door of his hovel. 

Outwardly, the place where the poor hunchback 
found shelter, and which he called home, was little 
better than a pile of stones thrown rudely together and 
covered with a sort of coarse cement which filled up 
the crevices, keeping out the wind and rain in winter, 
and the heat and dust in summer. 

There was a square hole for a window, with a board 
that slid back and forth as it was needed, either to 
open or shut the aperture, and a door so low that an 
upright man could not have entered without stooping ; 
but it was high enough for the bent figure of Hugo. 
Everything about the exterior of the humble place was 
neat and orderly; a few morning-glories crept over 
the rough walls and shaded the casement, and several 
rose-bushes and myrtles grew in boxes standing near 
the entrance ; a clump of cypress trees and a stunted 
olive made a background for the rude hovel, shading 
it from the too ardent rays of the sun, and giving it a 
picturesque, if not a cheerful, appearance. 

Although the outside of the Imnchback’s home was 
so poor and unattractive, the interior presented a pleas- 
ant picture, for everywhere the artist’s taste was visi- 


FIORDILISA. 


73 

ble. Scraps of different colored drapery which had 
been given him, or that he had picked up from the 
hric-d-brac shops on the Ponte Vecchio^ were arranged 
over the rude walls with remarkable taste, both in re- 
gard to harmony of color and design. A simple bed 
in one corner was covered with a drapery, which he had 
manufactured himself from bright bits of cambric and 
other stuffs that the more fortunate had thrown away 
as useless, while everywhere his skill in carving was 
visible. The franres that surrounded a few coarse 
prints were works of art; the small table, chair, and 
stool had been fashioned by his own hands, as well as 
a book-case that hung against the wall, filled with 
some worn books that he had bought for a trifle from 
the stalls in the streets. They were mostly works on 
art, or the lives and writings of the different Italian 
authors, plainly showing that the poor hunchback loved 
literature as well as all other beautiful and ennobling 
things. 

In one corner, and screened off from the remainder 
of the room, was a chimney, a few shelves and cooking 
utensils, all as clean and bright as the most fastidious 
housekeeper could desire, and at the foot of his bed 
was a little altar carved with a loving, reverential hand, 
supporting a crucifix and a dying Christ, copied from 
Luca della Robbia^ with two kneeling angels on each 
side. 


4 


74 


FIOBBILISA, 


Nearly ten years of Hugo’s life had been passed in 
this little room, and he had spent all his leisure time 
in improving and decorating it, until at times it seemed 
to him as beautiful as the most elegant palace in Flor- 
ence, and a fit place for a king to dwell in. It had 
cost him very little to live there ; he paid the monks 
of San Miniato a trifle for the privilege of inhabiting 
the little hovel that was, after all, only an abandoned 
goat-house, and no living thing, save Nana his goat, 
ever came near him. The gentle animal was his sole 
companion as well as his principal source of suste- 
nance, for her milk and a few vegetables that he raised 
ofi a little plot behind the hovel, served him for food 
when he had no money to purchase better. 

On this night, when Hugo entered his low door and 
gained the shelter of his humble roof, he felt as 
though he had been away for months, so much had 
happened to him, and he had experienced so many 
new emotions. His first act was to place the child 
upon his bed, and then groping around he found and 
lighted a small lamp which he held over the infant, 
examining it closely. It moved and nestled as though 
it was about to awake, and then cried a little in its 
sleep. 

The hunchback looked around half frightened. 
What should he do if it should weep and wail for its 
mother ? 


FI0RD1LI8A. 


75 


Perhaps it is hungry,” he said. “I must find N"ana 
and get it some nice fresh milk.” Going to the door, 
he made a peculiar noise by placing his hands over his 
mouth, and in a moment Nana answered his call, and 
came trotting to him, rubbing her docile head against 
his knee. 

When he had milked the goat and returned again to 
the room, he found the babe fairly awake and crying 
lustily for food. 

Taking it up awkwardly, but tenderly, he soothed it 
and fed it with the warm milk, which it took readily, 
much to his surprise, for he thought the tender nurs- 
ling would refuse to be fed in any other than the natu- 
ral way. 

“ Ah ! what an exquisite little creature it is,” said 
Hugo, watching it with fervent admiration. “ Its eyes 
are as blue as heaven, and its tiny rings of hair are like 
threads of yellow silk.” 

After it had eaten until it was satisfied, with a 
woman’s tenderness and thoughtfulness he unfastened 
the swathing bands that surrounded it, and allowed its 
little limbs the freedom that was natural to them. It 
seemed to enjoy its unaccustomed liberty hugely, 
stretching out its chubby arms and cooing and laugh- 
ing in the pale, sad face that was bent over it. 

The hunchback had always adored the little cherubs 
and figures of children in pictures and statuary, look- 


76 


FIOBDILISA. 


iiig upon them as something holy and pure, and far 
beyond his earthly affections ; and he had always mod- 
elled and carved them with singular reverence and love ; 
and now, when he held in his arms this warm, living, 
exquisite creature, this perfect model of all that was 
angelic, and his artistic nature revelled in its dainty 
outlines, its soft curves, its dimpled roundness, it 
seemed as though Heaven itself had opened before 
him, and he was filled with an ecstasy of delight. 

It was a strange picture that the flickering light of 
the little lamp fell upon. The deformed, grotesque 
figure of Hugo bending over the divine loveliness, in- 
nocence, and purity of the infant on his knees, with 
such a worshipping gaze as is only seen in the face of 
the Blessed Mother, or the adoring saints, looking with 
reverential awe at the holy child slumbering in the 
manger of Bethlehem. 

For a long while he looked and worshipped, until 
the drowsy lids closed over its blue eyes, and sleep 
folded it again in its peaceful embrace ; then he 
wrapped its robes softly around it, and laid it on his- 
pillow to sleep by his side. 

As he was turning away from the bed, something 
glittering on the floor at his feet attracted his atten- 
tion ; he stooped and picked it up, and on examining 
it, he found it to be a small gold clasp that had evi- 
dently fallen from the child’s clothes. It was of 


FIORDILISA, 


77 


antique and costly workmanship, and on the inside 
was engraven daintily a coronet and crest. 

“ What can this mean ? ” he said, with sudden pallor. 
“ How could a child of the people become possessed 
of this costly trinket? The woman was of humble 
position, her dress denoted it ; and her hands were 
coarse and rough with toil, while the child, though as 
lovely as an angel, does not seem to belong to wealthy 
parents ; its garments are such as are worn by the chil- 
dren of the poorer classes — clean and comfortable, but 
neither rich nor costly. It is a mystery that I cannot 
understand. However, it is not worth worrying about ; 
the little angel belongs to me now, and it can make no 
difference about its past ; I must think only of its 
future. Can it be possible that I can have an interest 
in the future of any human being ? ” 

Holding the clasp still in his hand, he turned again to 
the bed and gazed long and thoughtfully on the child. 

“ It must be some weeks old — I wonder how many ? 
I wonder if its father lives, or if he has abandoned its 
mother, as my unhappy mother was abandoned? I 
wish I could know whether it had been baptized and 
named, but I cannot. I can know nothing of its his- 
tory. I have taken it instantly from one life to 
another, and it must begin again, sweet, unconscious 
innocent. To-day will be its birthday, July 6th, 1823, 
and I must give it a name.” 


78 


FIORDILISA. 


For a long time Hugo seemed to be revolving some- 
thing in his mind, something important, for his brows 
were knit, and his face had an anxious expression ; it 
was important — this giving the child a name without 
priest or holy water — but it must be done, “ and I am 
the only one to do it,” he said gravely. “ At first it 
seemed easy, very easy, but now, 1 think of it more, it is 
difficult to decide what to call it.” 

“ Ah ! I have it now,” he said joyfully, after a mo- 
ment more of silent cogitation, “ and it will be so suit- 
able, ‘ Fiordilisa,’ how sweet and pretty, a lily, yes, 
she is a lily of purity and delicate whiteness, and I 
will call her Lisa — it will be shorter and more childlike. 
I wonder if she would awake if I should kiss her. My 
lips have never touched a human being’s since they 
were pressed upon my dead mother’s face. They are 
pure, and my kiss would be a benediction on her 
name, because I have sworn that they should touch no 
other face until I saw my mother again in paradise, 
and it seems as though I was with her to night, and as 
near heaven as I ever shall be. Oh ! this wondrous 
human love, even for a child ! How it ennobles and 
purifies the soul. I shall be better now. My lily, my 
sweet lily, I will toil for you, I will live for you, and 
be so tender and gentle to you that you will love me, 
even though I am a deformed and wretched being 
whom every one despises.” 


FI0BDILI8A, 


79 


Then with the hot tears falling over the pillow, he 
stooped and pressed his lips reverently to the white 
forehead of the babe, and made the sign of the cross 
over her, saying in a deep solemn voice : May God 
and all the blessed saints protect thee from sin and 
sorrow in this hard world, and make thee good and 
happy through my humble instrumentality.” 

The child was sleeping soundly, unconscious of his 
prayers and tears ; and fearing to awake it if he lay 
down by its side, he drew a chair near the bed, and 
leaning his weary head on the pillow close by his new- 
found treasure, he slept soundly until the sunlight 
shining into the window of his little room awoke him. 

With the new day began a new life for him. The 
babe had to be fed, bathed, and swathed again in its 
clinging garments, which Hugo did as carefully and 
tenderly as a woman ; for his artistic nature, and the 
constant and delicate handling of his carving-tools, 
made him expert in those things that men generally 
do awkwardly and roughly. 

While he busied himself about his duties, he was re- 
volving in his mind some plan by which he could com- 
municate with the city, for he saw at once that the in- 
fant would need clothes and food, and many little deli- 
cacies which his humble way of living had never de- 
manded ; and he had the means of procuring them — 
thanks to the bounty of the Angel of the Church — but 


80 


FI0EDILI8A. 


who should he employ as a messenger, and who couM 
he trust to lay out his money economically and judi- 
ciously ? He thought of Father Ilario, his only friend ; 
but he was about leaving for Borne, and beside, he 
was not tlie one to purchase tlie numberless little arti- 
cles he needed, neither did he desire to impart his 
secret to any one ; he did not wish any human being 
to know that the child was beneath his roof. 

Ho, no ! I must not tell any one,” he said ; “ for I 
might not be allowed to keep it, and it would kill me 
to lose it now.” 

He went to the door and looked out. The sun was 
just rising beyond the purple hills ; the birds fluttered 
and chirped in the cypress ; Nana browsed near the 
border of his small garden; a little rivulet running 
among the vines over some mossy rocks murmured 
pleasantly on his ear ; the walls of the convent and the 
windows of the church were all ablaze with the sun- 
light; nature was awake, singing her morning song 
joyously, and Hugo’s happy heart joined in the 
chorus. 

Suddenly he thought of the dead woman lying un- 
der the cypress, and he turned pale and shivered. 

“ I wonder if she is there still,” he said ; and an 
irresistible desire to know took possession of him. I 
must see ; and if the child is sleeping, I will go ; I 
need not be absent but a few moments.” 


FIOBDILmA, 


81 


The baby, refreshed by its bath and warm milk, had 
dozed off again ; and Hugo, carefully locking the 
door, started down the hill in trembling haste. His 
very soul shrank from looking upon that terrible sight, 
even though the sun shone brightly and the whole 
world was awake. 

Some one must have discovered her before this,” 
he said, to reassure himself. “ A great many peasants 
must have already gone into the city:” As he ap- 
proached the spot, he scarcely dared to look, but when 
he did so, he uttered a cry of relief — she was not 
there ! there was nothing on the ground but the flick- 
ering shadow of the foliage and the warm bright rays 
of the newly-risen sun. 

Who had carried her away, and when had she been 
discovered ? Had she lain there alone all through the 
dreary hours of the night, or had some belated peasant, 
trudging homeward, come upon her as he had done, and 
offered the services to the poor clay that he had re- 
fused ? A sharp pang of remorse darted through his 
heart — he had acted a cruel and selfish part. He had 
taken the child because it was living and beautiful, 
and his heart desired it, and had left the dead mother 
to the mercy of others. 

There was nothing in the sunlit silence of morning 
to explain the mystery of the dreary night ; she was 

gone and had left no trace, save the marks of footsteps 

4 * 


82 


FIORDILISA. 


on the grass ; whether his, or another’s who had come 
to her aid, he could not tell. He could do nothing now, 
so remorsefully, and dejectedly, he retraced his steps 
toward his hovel on the hill. 

Half way up the steep ascent he met a bright-faced 
peasant woman, who lived in a little cottage a mile be- 
yond on the country road. She had often spoken to him 
kindly and cheerfully, and he had learned to like her 
and respect her ; she was clean and thrifty-looking, and 
he knew she was honest. At once the thought occurred 
to him to entrust her with his commissions. She was 
going direct to the city and would return in a few 
hours ; there could certainly be no better chance. 

“ Good morning, Signora,” he said politely, as she 
paused in the road to return his greeting. “ I see you 
are on your way to the city right early.” 

“Yes, Master Hugo. I go early to escape the heat. 
But you, how is it that you seem to be returning at this 
hour ? ” 

“ I am not returning, Signora, or rather I have not 
been to the city,” replied Hugo, stammering and con- 
fused. “ I wish to go, but I dare not.” Then he told 
her briefly of what had happened the day before, omit- 
ting, of course, his discovery and theft of the child. 

“ Ah ! my friend, you are hardly dealt with,” re- 
turned the good woman compassionately. “And it is 
a sin and a shame to drive you from the city for no 


FIOItDILISA, 


83 


fault of your own. What can I do for you there ? Tell 
me, pray, for I shall be glad to serve you in any way I 
can.” 

Then Hugo gave her a list of the articles which he 
desired to purchase, and taking one of the gold pieces 
that the Countess Elena had given him, from his pocket, 
he placed it in her hand. ‘‘Bring me these things 
when you return, and I shall be very grateful. I will 
await you here, so that you will not have to go out of 
your way.” 

“ Yery well, my friend, I will do your errand as 
though it were my own, for I cannot tell how soon I 
may want a like favor for myself. We none of us know 
what misfortune may come upon us,” and with a cheer- 
ful addio^ she started on her way, singing a merry song, 
as though her heart was light and free from care. 

After that Hugo found no trouble in communicating 
with the city, for the kind-hearted Nella undertook all 
his commissions cheerfully, and performed them care- 
fully and judiciously. 

When he returned to his hovel his mind felt relieved 
of a heavy load. The dead woman was no longer near 
him to remind him of the dreadful scene of the night 
before, and his secret now seemed safe ; beside, he had 
succeeded in finding a trusty messenger, who would 
bring him the articles be needed for the comfort of the 
child that he already loved so tenderly. 


84 


FIOBDILISA. 


The baby still slept, and Hugo set about preparing 
his simple breakfast, and putting everything in order 
about the little room. So many other things had oc- 
cupied his thoughts during the morning that he had for- 
gotten the clasp he had picked up the previous night, 
and was not reminded of it until he came upon it in a 
drawer of his table, where he had placed it with the 
r blanket that had been folded around the child. 

On seeing it again an uncomfortable feeling of mys- 
tery and uncertainty troubled him. Taking it to the 
door where he could see it in the full light, he turned 
it over and over and examined it closely ; there were 
nine points to the coronet, and around it a legend, in 
small and half-effaced characters, which he was unable 
to decipher. 

“ I wish I had not found this,” he said, anxiously. 
“ I would rather there had been nothing by which she 
could ever be identified. I have a mind to destroy it ; 
but no, I will not. I will hide it, and it can make no 
difference. When she is old enough to understand, 
she must think that I am her father, and she must 
never see this, nor know that it was on her when she 
was taken from her mother. I will put it with the 
ring the Angel of the Church gave me, and I will wear 
them always next my heart.” 

' Drawing from his bosom a small silk bag that con- 
tained a lock of his mother’s hair and the ring given 


THE MAUniAQE IN THE DUOMO, 


85 


him by the Countess Elena, he placed the clasp with 
them, shivering slightly as he did so, for what reason 
he could not tell, and then glancing furtively around, 
as though the child might see and understand, he 
returned his treasures to their hiding-place, with a feel- 
ing of superstitious awe and foreboding. 


CHAPTER yi. 

THE MAEEIAGE IN THE DUOMO. 

morning all Florence was awake and stir- 
ig bright and early, for a thrill of excite- 
ent ran through the city, from the highest 
to the lowest. There was to be a great wedding in 
the Duomo, on a scale of splendor and magnificence 
never witnessed, except on the occasion of a royal mar- 
riage. 

For weeks before this day, the fashionable, who 
expected to be present, had done little else than discuss 
it, dwelling on its grandeur, the wealth of the bride- 
groom, the beauty of the bride, the number of the 
bridesmaids, the costliness of the decorations, the un- 
heard-of pomp and show, the superb trousseau, the 
wonderful banquet that was to be provided for hun- 



86 


THE MARRIAGE IN THE DUOMO, 


dreds of guests, in short, all things that go to make up 
a display of royal splendor. 

The fortunate and much-envied bride was the Con- 
tessa Elena Altimonti, and the happy, and equally en- 
vied groom was the Duke of Castellara. 

At an early hour, the square in front of the Duomo 
was filled with an eager, curious crowd, in holiday 
■» attire, talking, laughing, and jostling each other good- 
naturedly, each trying to get the best places, where 
they could see to the best advantage the elegant cor- 
tege^ while the vast Duomo was packed in every avail- 
able place, except the centre of the grand nave, which 
was kept clear by a cordon of Bersaglieri in their 
handsome green uniforms and plumed helmets. 

Since early morning the patient crowd had waited, 
and now the sun had nearly reached its meridian, when 
the rumble of wheels in the square, the tramp of 
horses, and the clatter of spurs and sabres, told that the 
splendid pageant had reached the door of the cathe- 
dral. First there came a mounted guard in brilliant 
uniform, Ferdinand’s own body-guard, then the ofiicers 
of the Grand Duke’s household, then his Highness in 
his gilded chariot drawn by six spirited horses, then 
the Cardinal Bishop in his scarlet and gold equipage, 
followed by more dignitaries of the Church, then a 
guard of cuirassiers, then a pure white chariot deco- 
rated with nodding white plumes, and drawn by eight 


THE MARRIAGE IN THE DUOMO. 


87 


milk-white horses caparisoned with housings of silver 
cloth and decked with wedding favors. Within this 
superb carriage, as pale as a beautiful statue, sat the 
Contessa Elena Altimonti, and by her side, insolent, 
haughty, and contented, was the Duke of Castellara — 
Ferdinand’s favorite, and the wealthiest noble in Flor- 
ence. After them came more gaily decorated car- 
riages, tilled with the bridesmaids and the wedding 
guests, and last of all, forty or fifty young cavaliers, 
in brilliant uniforms, mounted on prancing chargers, 
each with a wedding favor of the Altimonti and Cas- 
tellara colors blended. 

When the beautiful bride entered the cathedral, 
every eye was fixed upon her, unmindful of all else, for 
a more lovely vision never dawned upon an enraptured 
crowd. Pale and graceful as a swaying lily, she 
leaned upon her father’s arm, her train of white velvet 
floating behind her like waves of sea-foam, her satin 
robe, pearl embroidered, clinging to her slender figure, 
her arms and neck one blaze of gems, and a coronet 
resting on her golden hair, of such rare brilliancy that 
even royalty might envy it, while a veil as delicate and 
white as the spray of a fountain covered her in its 
transparent folds, softening her beauty without con- 
cealing it. 

The mighty organ burst forth in grandest melody, 
as the Duke and his bride stood before the high altar. 


88 


TEE MABRIAGE IN TEE DUOMO, 


Ferdinand descended from his chair of state, the Cardi- 
nal approached the chancel, and the ceremony that 
was to make Elena Altimonti the Duchess of Castel- 
lara, began. TJiere was profound silence. Every 
word of the priest was heard distinctly, and the clear, 
proud voice of the Duke sounded like an exultant and 
triumphant song, as he responded, while the liquid 
tones of the Contessa were as calm and sweet, as 
though she were uttering some commonplace sentence 
in her father’s salon. 

The Grand Duke Ferdinand gave her away, the ring 
was placed upon her finger, and she knelt to receive 
the benediction of the holy father, like one in a dream, 
for her thoughts were far from the splendor of the 
scene around her. She was living over another hour 
in her life, a moment when one she loved with all her 
soul had knelt at her feet and whispered words of 
tender passion in her willing ear. So absorbed was 
she in her sad sweet memories, that she scarce heard 
the words of the priest, the roll of the organ, or the 
murmur of the vast multitude around her. At last the 
voice of her husband — that hated voice — fell upon her 
ear and recalled her to herself. Witliout raising her 
eyes to his, she listened in silence to his words of ten- 
derness, which seemed more like an expression of tri- 
umph, and then turned to her friends, who crowded 
around her with their well-meant congratulations. 


THE MARRIAGE IN THE BUOMO. 


89 


Almost the first one to press to her side was Enrico, 
who, pale as death, looked pityingly on the lovely 
victim of a father’s ambition. The silent^ firm pres- 
sure of his fingers, the earnest expression of his eyes, 
reassured her, and enabled her to overcome the emo- 
tion that threatened to vanquish her forced calm- 
ness. 

Again the organ pealed forth ; all was over, and the 
angels of heaven must have wept at the spectacle, for 
a greater mockery of all that is holy, a more pitiless 
sacrifice, a more cruel deception was never practised. 

The Duchess of Castellara took the arm of her hus- 
band, but as she did so, she shot from under her down- 
cast lids such a glance of hate and scorn straight to 
his very soul, that he quailed under it, and looked 
away almost terrified. 

The brilliant cortege filed out of the church; the 
crowd huzzaed wildly, shouting “ Long live the Duke, 
long live the Duchess ; ” the bells rang out their mer- 
riest peals, and amid the general clamor of rejoicing 
the pale young bride drove away to her future home, 
the magnificent palace of the Duke of Castellara. 

“ I should not like to have had you look at me that 
way on our wedding day, Francesca,” said a good- 
natured peasant to his buxom wife, who stood with 
wide eyes eagerly fixed on the Duchess. 

“ How, foolish Gito ? Do you expect the nobility to 


90 THE MARRIAGE IN THE DUOMO. 

appear as we do ? Why, she only looked pale and 
proud, just as a duchess should.’’ 

“ She looked as though she would like to stab the 
Duke, that was how she looked to me.” 

“ Oh, nonsense. Why, her crown of diamonds was 
as handsome as a queen’s.” 

And her face as pale and fixed as a corpse.” 

‘‘And the pearls on her necklace as large as my 
thumb.” 

“ She never smiled once. I watched her face all 
the time. She never raised her eyes to her husband’s, 
once.” 

“ Did you notice the length of her train, and such 
velvet to drag over the ground! She never even 
raised it when she entered her carriage,” said a shop- 
keeper, ruefully. 

“ Do you think the Duchess of Castellara would 
take the trouble to lift her train ? ” asked a little milli- 
ner near him. “ I only wonder she did not have a 
CHDuple of pages to bear it.” 

“ They must have bought all the white plumes in 
Florence. I have counted more than fifty on the 
bride’s chariot,” returned the shopman. “ AYell, it is a 
good thing for we poor people who work. I wish the 
Duke of Castellara would get married every day.” 

“ So do we,” cried a group of children. “ Have you 
heard what they are going to do ! ” 


^T'HE MARRIAGE IN TEE DUOMO. 


91 


I “ ITo. What is it ? ” 

i “ The Duke’s majordomo is going to shower lots 
I; of confetti in the square, and bags of silver coin — so 
much that those who pick it up will be rich all their 
lives.” 

! “ Is that true \ Ah ! his highness has the right kind 

i of a heart after all. How, look out cara mia for the 
silver, and let the confetti go. Silver will buy all the 
j confetti you want, but confetti will not buy silver,” 
and, with this sage advice, the man of business walked 
away. 

“ I dare say old Giovan would like to be a child, 
too, so that he might get some,” said a pert little girl, 
holding up her apron in anticipation of the shower of 
sweets that would be poured into it. 

“ I’m glad that it is only for the children, else the 
grown people would push us little folk aside, and get 
it all.” 

“ They can’t do that, for, yon see all these soldiers 
standing about to prevent them, and, it will be like 
stealing, if they take any. The Duke gave orders that 
it was only for the children,” said a pale, eager boy, 
coming forward anxiously. 

Presently, while they all pressed nearer to the main 
entrance of the Duomo, the stately majordomo came 
down the steps, followed by two servants bearing each 
a huge bag. 


92 


THE MAEBIAGE IN THE DUOMO. 


“ There is the confetti ! there is the money,” they 
all cried, excitedly. 

With one majestic wave of his hand, he cleared a 
space around him while he said, in a loud, pompous 
voice: “His highness, the Duke of Castellara, has re- 
membered the children of Florence on this, his wed- 
ding day, and has ordered me to distribute among you 
three thousand mezzi liri and a number of bushels of 
confettV* 

Before the majordomo had well finished his speech 
the air was rent with the joyous cry of “ Long live the 
Duke of Castellara, long live the Duke ! ” Then each 
of the servants raising their hands, threw out over the 
crowd, handful after handful of confetti mingled with 
small silver coins. 

Then such a wild scene as ensued would be impossi- 
ble to describe ; children rushing pell-mell over each 
other. The strong and greedy snatching from the 
timid and weak what they had picked up, one jostling 
aside another just as his fingers were about to close on 
a coveted piece — shouts, laughter, groans, tears and 
cries of rage and disappointment all mingled together, 
And when, from time to time, some poor trembling 
beggar who could not resist the temptation to stealthily 
snatch a piece was detected by one of the soldiers and 
rudely made to disgorge, a yell of delight would rise 
from the crowd, for the rights of the children were 


THE MARRIAGE IJST THE DUOMO. 


93 


generallj" respected ; the adults standing by to cheer 
on their own offspring, or the strong and rapacious who 
got the most in the struggle. At length the last hand- 
ful was dispensed, and the last howl of delight uttered, 
and the dense crowd gradually dispersed, some con- 
tented with their share of the spoils, others crying and 
complaining over their disappointment and the bruises 
and blows they had received, but all, nevertheless, well 
satisfied that the Duke of Castellara was a good, gener- 
ous man and a public benefactor, who had dispensed 
his charity right nobly and judiciously on this his wed- 
ding day. 

While this rude scene was taking place in the square 
of the Duomo, the banquet at the Ducal palace was 
progressing on a scale of magnificence and splendor 
seldom, if ever, equalled. 

The Duke, with the Duchess by his side, received his 
guests in the most courtly manner, indicating the place 
of each one at the banquet ; Ferdinand and the Court 
first, and after them each noble according to his title, 
and each officer according to his rank. When all were 
seated and the gilded covers were removed, it seemed 
as though every dainty and rarity had been gathered 
from the four corners of the earth. Fruits from the 
tropics, birds and game from the far North, fish from 
all the rivers of the earth, wines from every vintage 
under the sun. 


94 


TEE MABRIAQE IN THE DUOMO. 


Gold and silver dishes of antique workmanship were 
piled with rare fruit and decorated with costly exotics. 
Platters of delicate Sevres ware, each a work of art in 
itself, held the game and meats of every description, 
which were served to the guests on plates of oriental 
china as thin and richly colored as the petals of a 
flower, while the wine flowed in old Yeneti’an glasses as 
delicate and transparent as bubbles. Nothing was 
wanted at this Lucullean banquet that money could 
procure or the most extravagant taste devise, and 3"et 
the Duke did not seem satisfied with the result, for 
while the wine flowed as freely as the wit of his guests, 
and the merry laughter of fair maidens mingled with 
the gay badinage of their cavaliers, his Duchess re- 
mained silent, sad, and indifferent. 

When the moment arrived for the bride to cut the 
bridal cake, as was the custom, all stood up and the 
Duke, with a graceful and pleasant speech gave her 
the gold knife, while Ferdinand held her fan ; but, 
instead of performing the simple ceremony, she de- 
clined, with a cold and haughty bow, and requested her 
maid of honor, who stood behind her, to do it for her. 
Then, without appearing to notice the Duke, who was 
greatly annoyed at this breach of etiquette, she turned 
and made some remark to Ferdinand, who sat on her 
right. 

‘‘ The Contessa Elena always was eccentric,” said one 


THE MARRIAGE IN THE DUOMO. 95 

of her admirers in reply to the remark of a lady next 
him, “and now that she is a bride and a duchess, she 
has a better right than ever to indulge in her little 
whims.” 

“ But the Duke is in a fearful rage,” said the lady. 
“ See how pale he is, and how he gnaws his upper lip. 
I should not like to offend him so openly. It is a bad 
beginning, and I am sure they will never be happy.” 

“ Bah ! what difference, entre nous., she has bought 
her coronet, and she must pay for it ; but she must 
]iot drive the Duke to the wall, for he is a dangerous 
enemy.” 

“ She looks resolute and proud enough to be a match 
for him, and more than that, she seems most unhappy. 
I am sure she never became Castellara’s wife of her 
own free will ; there must have been some coercion, 
which she is revenging on him by treating him with 
this studied coldness and scorn.” 

“ Ah ! how you fair creatures like to speculate, and 
weave romances out of the most practical things. It 
seems to me very reasonable that she should marry 
him, for who could resist Castellara, gilded as he is ? ” 

At that moment the Duchess rose from the table, the 
royal guest retired, and the grand banquet, that had 
been the talk of all Florence, was over. 

An hour later the Duchess, leaning on the arm of 
Enrico, entered a small houdoir, fitted up with the 


06 


TEE MARRIAGE IE THE DUOMO. 


most exquisite taste, and redolent with the perfume of 
flowers, which were placed everywhere in lavish pro- 
fusion. 

With a heavy sigh she withdrew her arm from her 
cousin’s, and throwing herself wearily into a chair she 
said : “Well, Enrico, what have you to say to me that 
requires this privacy? The Duchess of Castellara 
must not absent herself from her guests on her wed- 
ding day, so pray be brief.” 

“ I will not detain you long, cousin, for I well know 
that the time is inopportune, but I am so anxious to 
ask you why you have so steadily refused to see me 
ever since your betrothal to the Duke. Did we not 
agree to be the closest and dearest friends ? ” 

“Yes, dear Enrico, we did, and my part of the 
compact is unbroken. You are the only friend I have 
on earth beside my father.” 

“ Then why did you not see me before your mar- 
riage ? ” 

“ I did not know you wished to see me. I was not 
told of your visits. I denied myself to every one, but 
never to you ; it was a mistake that you were not 
admitted, for I needed your friendship as I never have 
before. O Enrico ! I am too wretched.” 

“ And all Florence is envying you your good for- 
tune.” 

“ Ah ! my God ! if they only knew how gladly I 


TEE MARRIAGE IN TEE DUOMO. 97 

would change places with the meanest peasant who 
to-day gazed with open-mouthed admiration at my 
pomp and splendor.” 

“ I do not understand you, Elena,” returned Enrico 
gravely, you are a strange contradiction. When I 
last talked with you, you assured’ me most solemnly 
that you would fiever marry the Duke of Castellara, 
and yet, three days after, your engagement to him was 
announced. Why did you change so suddenly ? ” 

“ I was forced to accept him. You surely do not 
think me so weak and base as to marry him volun . 
tarily?” 

“ Forced ! I scarcely comprehend your meaning. 
What coercion was powerful enough to hasten you to 
such sudden decision ? ” 

“My cousin, it is a secret that I never intended 
^^iiould pass my lips, but you I can trust ; beside, I 
wish to offer some extenuating reason to you for my 
conduct. I married the Duke of Castellara to save 
my father from irretrievable ruin.” 

“Your father from ruin! What can you mean, 
Elena ? Surely your trouble has turned your 
brain.” 

“ Alas ! no, Enrico, it is too true, my unhappy father 
was in the power of the Duke. For years we have 
lived upon the wealth of the man I treated vdth scorn 

and contempt, and all that appears to belong to my 
5 


98 


THE MARBIAOE IN THE DUO MO. 


father is not his, but the property of the Duke of Cas- 
tellara.” 

“ Elena, you must be jesting. Who could have told 
you this silly tale ? ” cried Enrico in astonishment. 

“My father told me the humiliating story of his 
ruin, with his own* lips, and entreated me to save 
him from utter beggary.” 

“ Your father ! My uncle ! Can it be possible ? 
What could have induced him to utter such a false- 
hood ? The Altimonti estate, though small, is unencum- 
bered. Your father is a wealthy man. I surely should 
know, for I receive my revenue from the same prop- 
erty.” 

“Oh! my cousin, are you sure of what 3^011 assert? 
Tell me quickly, I pray you, for I cannot ejidure to 
think that I am the victim of mj^ father’s deception.” 

“ I am positive of what I have told you, and I have 
every means of knowing there was no such necessity. 
It was but a plot to force you into compliance. Your 
father well knew the strength of your filial affection 
for him, and used it to subserve his ambition. He 
knew that what vou would resist with all the streniith 
of your soul, you would finally agree to from a sense 
of duty to him.” 

During Enrico’s words the Duchess stood before 
him as pale and still as marble, her hands clenched, 
her lips compressed, and her eyes filled with tears 


THE MABBIAGE IN THE BUOMO. 


99 


that did not fall. At last she spoke in low measured 
tones, as though her heart were uttering the words in- 
stead of her lips : 

If this be true, then am the victim of the father 
whom I loved and trusted, and he has been my most 
cruel enemy, and I cannot revenge myself upon him, 
because he is my father. There is nothing good, or 
holy, or pure in life, and there are none we can trust, 
not even those who brought us into the world ; they 
even are destitute of natural affection, and will sacri- 
fice their own offspring to ambition and wealtli. But 
it is too late now. Had I known this before, I might 
have been saved.” 

Had they allowed me to see you, I should have dis- 
covered their plot, and frustrated their plans. ’ I feared 
there was some treachery when I was so constantly 
refused.” 

And do you think the Duke was a party to this 
cruel conspiracy ? ” 

“ I know not, but I presume he was the instigator, 
and first proposed it to your father as a means of win- 
ning you.” 

“ My father, and my husband, the two beings I 
should love best on earth, are from this moment my 
most bitter enemies ; and they shall rue the hour when 
they plotted my ruin. Enrico, bear witness to what I 
say, the Duke of Castellara shall be punished as sure as 


100 


THE MARRIAGE IN THE DUOMO. 


there is a God in Heaven ! I will bide ray time. I 
will wait patiently for the hour of ray vengeance. I 
am an Altimonti, and I inherit something of my 
father’s implacable nature, for I never forget an in- 
jury. Henceforth I stand alone, my heart and soul 
opposed to every living thing.” 

“ Not to me, Elena, surely not to me ! ” cried Enrico 
alarmed at her violence. 

“ I said to all the world ; I trust no one. My 
father has deceived me, and you would do the same 
if it served your interests.” 

“ Never, as God hears me, never.” 

“ I trust no one. Remember what I have said. Fare- 
well, the Duchess of Castellara must return to her 
guests.” 

And with a low bow, and a bitter mocking laugh 
she raised the silken curtain over the door and disap- 
peared, leaving Enrico motionless with surprise and 
sorrow. 


SIQNOBA PIA. 


101 


CHAPTEE YII. 

SIGNOEA PIA. 

me, papa, please, what is there fastened to 
s black cord you always wear around your 
3k ? ” asked a child of eight years, a fair, 
blue-eyed, golden-haired girl, who clung to a pale, 
deformed man, caressing him affectionately, pressing 
her rosy cheeks to his sallow face, and smoothing his 
long, dark locks with her white dimpled fingers. 

The child was Eiordilisa, the babe that was stolen 
from her mother, as she lay under the cypress tree 
near San Salvador, and the man was Hugo the hunch- 
back, who had carried her in his arms, trembling with 
fear, to his hovel on San Miniato. 

The infant had lived and prospered under the tender 
care of Hugo. Shut out from the world, with no com- 
panions save her father and Hana, the goat, she knew 
nothing of a life beyond the church and the hill of 
San Miniato, ^^et she was contented, healthy, and 
happy, and as beautiful as a poet’s dream, while she 
loved the strange, deformed man with the unselfish, 
trusting affection of childhood, that neither questions 



102 


SIGNOBA PIA, 


nor exacts, taking what is given it gratefully and 
cheerfully. 

They were sitting on a rude bench under the cypress 
— or rather, Hugo was sitting, and the child stood 
beside him with one arm thrown fondly around his 
neck, when a small silken cord just visible above his 
open collar attracted her attention, and caused her to 
ask the question at the opening of the chapter. 

Hugo did not reply, but looked uneasily away 
toward the city below him, while an expression of fear 
and anxiety crossed his face. 

Again the child, with gentle persistency, repeated 
the question, ‘‘Tell me, papa, what is there on the 
cord ? Is it an Agnus Dei f ” 

“ Ho, Lisa, it is a ring that I have worn for a long 
time.” 

“ A ring ? Oh, let me see it, papa. I never saw a 
ring.” 

“ Certainly, darling, if you wish to,” said HugOj 
taking the ring reluctantly from the little bag, which 
he held closely, fearful lest the clasp that the babe 
had worn might meet the eye of the child. “ I have 
never parted with it for a moment,” he said, kissing it 
reverently, as he laid it in Lisa’s outstretched palm. 

“ Oh, how pretty ! ” she exclaimed, turning the band 
on her rosy finger, while she examined it closely. “ It 
has a picture on it, papa, such a tiny picture.” 


SIGNORA PIA. 


103 


“ It is a coronet, my child. It was given me by a 
good and noble lady.” 

“ A good and noble lady ! Ah ! papa, I know who 
gave it you. It was the one you call the Angel of the 
Church, the one whose image you carved so beauti- 
fully, and whom you said I might love next to the 
Holy Virgin.” 

“ Yes, my Lisa, you are right ; it was she who gave 
me the ring when I was in sore trouble and near to 
death ; when I was poor, despised, and friendless.” 

“ O papa ! why were you despised and friendless, 
why were you in trouble?” and the child put her 
arms around him in a pitying, protecting way, while 
tears filled her eyes, and fell over Hugo’s face as she 
pressed her soft cheek to his. 

Hever mind, darling ; don’t weep ; every pain I 
have suffered is not worth a tear from your sweet eyes, 
and my troubles are over now. I have you to love, 
and so it does not matter what happened to me in those 
sorrowful days ; so kiss the ring, dear child, and I will 
put it away ; for my heart is restless when my treasure 
is not near it.” 

Lisa pressed her pretty lips to the gold band, with 
lingering fondness, and then, giving it to Hugo, she 
said softly, and with a shy, downcast look : I love it, 
too, because the lady was good to you ; but, papa, when 
I first saw it, I thought you would tell me that it had 


104 


SIGNORA PIA. 


belonged to my mamma ; that she had worn it, and 
given it to you when she died ; for you remember you 
told me once that she was dead.” 

“Yes,” replied Hugo, with sudden pallor. “ I told 
you she was dead.” 

“ She died when I was a very little baby then, for 1 
cannot remember her. Oh, how I wish I could remem- 
ber her.” 

You were too young when she died ; you were but 
an infant.” 

“ Why do you never talk to me of her, papa ? ” 

“ Because, Lisa, it makes me unhappy ; and I wish 
to forget her.” 

“ Wish to forget my mamma ? Is that right, to for- 
get those you have loved ? ” 

“ Yes, when tlie memory causes us pain, my child.” 

“ And did she make you unhappy, that you wish to 
forget her ? ” 

‘‘ Hush ! hush ! Lisa ! do not speak of that ; it hurts 
me to hear it. Let us talk of something else.” 

^‘Poor papa,” she said, tenderly, trying to stroke 
away the trouble she saw in his face ; “ don’t look so 
sad, and we will talk of the noble lady, ‘ the Angel of 
the Church,’ and that will make you happier.” 

‘‘Yes, Lisa, talk of her, think of her; and so your 
thoughts will be nearer heaven.” 

“ Is she in heaven, papa ? ” 


SIGNORA PIA. 


105 


“ No, my child, she is on earth ; but the memory of 
her charity and goodness makes a heaven in my heart 
when I think of her.” 

“ And do you never see her, papa ? ” 

“ No, my child, she is a great lady. She is the 
Duchess of Castellara. She lives in Florence, where I 
never go, only in secret. For eight years I have not 
seen her, but I remember her as well as though it were 
but yesterday that she stood before me in the church ; 
and I shall see her again, some time, when I am more 
worthy of her kindness than I am now. But see, my 
Lisa, it is growing late ; the sun is nearly down, and 
you have not yet recited your lesson.” 

“ Oh, papa ! I have not learned it. I am so sorry ; 
but after I sat for you to model my face, I was so tired 
with keeping still that Kana and I had to run around 
the convent garden. And then it was warm, and it is 
so quiet there since the monks went away, that I fell 
asleep and only awoke when you called me.” 

“Well, I suppose I must forgive you,” and Hugo 
smiled indulgently at her innocent excuses. “ But 
bring your book and recite your lesson with me, for 
my Lisa must not grow up ignorant and stupid. I be- 
gan to teach myself to read when I was but a few years 
older than you are, and I was all alone in the world 
and had no one to help me — only now and then when 

Father Ilario, a good monk who went to Kome years 
5 * 


106 


8I0N0RA PIA. 


ago, loaned me a book or pointed out the letters to me 
on the scraps of journals I picked up in the streets ; 
but I was never discouraged, and afterwards I found 
my books my greatest comfort. And since I have had 
you, while you were sleeping at night, I have sat by 
your bed and studied, that f might be able to teach 
you when you were old enough to learn. Now the 
time has come, and 3^ou must begin to studj^ So run 
and fetch your book.” 

“ Yes, papa, and to-morrow I will not be so idle,” 
said the docile child, as she ran to obey her father, her 
beautiful hair making sunlight about her, and her e^^es 
radiant with life and happiness. 

In a moment she returned with her book, and lean- 
ing against the hunchback’s shoulder, with her arm 
around his bowed neck, and her cheek pressed close to 
his, she recited with him her less'on, which was to open 
the door of poetry and romance to her ardent young 
heart. 

Then when the sun was low and its last rays lingered 
for a moment on the topmost tower of the church, 
gilding the sombre walls of the convent and the for- 
tress of the great Angelo, Lisa saw it vanish, leaving all 
in purple shadow, saw the red line of light in the west 
beyond the black cypress, and the city below like a 
vapory violet sea, just as she had seen it all a hundred 
times, without being aware of its grandeur and beaut}^ — 


SIGJVOJiA PIA. 


107 


and without one lingering glance. After she had fin- 
ished her lesson, she kissed her father lovingly, and 
with a good-night to ISTana, who browsed near, she ran 
away to her humble bed to sleep the sleep of innocent 
childhood, watched over by that God who cares for Hjs 
lowliest creature. 

For a long while after the child had left him Hugo 
sat there in deep thought. It was the eighth anniver- 
sary of the night that he had brought her home, and 
for eight years he had kept his secret, and enjoyed his 
happiness undisturbed — for eight years he had lived in 
the retirement of his little cottage, without exciting 
cuiiosity or suspicion, and he had prospered, too, and 
made wonderful strides in his art. 

For several years the honest Hella had been his only 
medium of communication with the city ; he had mod- 
elled and carved his cherubic figures, which she car- 
ried to the dealer on the Ponte Vecchio^ who took them 
as soon as they were finished, and now paid more liber- 
ally for them than he did at first, for he found that 
they were the production of genius, and sold at once to 
strangers and lovers of art for six times the price he 
allowed the poor artist who made them. 

Hugo was frugal and industrious, and it cost but 
little for him and the child to live, though he 'gave 
her good wholesome food, and dressed her neatly in 
quaint little, garments that he fashioned with his own 


108 


SIGNOBA PIA. 


hands ; therefore he was able to save quite a sum, and 
when Lisa was a few years old he had, with the assist- 
ance of an honest workman, enlarged his hovel to a 
comfortable little cottage of three rooms, and these he 
had decorated after his own fashion until they were 
not only cheerful and picturesque, but almost luxu- 
rious in their dainty arrangement. 

He had planted flowers everywhere, and a little 
vineyard flourished on the hillside near a well-kept 
garden, where at early dawn the hunchback could 
always be seen digging, weeding, and pruning. Some- 
times the fair-haired child was at his side, but oftener 
he was alone, for he preferred that she should sleep 
until his out-door labor was over and his humble break- 
fast was spread. Then the remainder of the day was 
devoted to his art, when Lisa patiently posed to him 
for hours together, never complaining of weariness if 
her father needed her ; always docile, sweet, and pa- 
tient, she seemed more like the angels he modelled 
than an earthly child. 

When Lisa was between five and six years old, his 
trusty messenger, Nella, went to live on a little farm at 
Fisole, and he was obliged to go to the city to transact 
his own business, which he did from time to time, never 
lingering longer than was absolutely necessary, and 
always avoiding his old haunts. But such precaution 
was no longer necessary, for his little tormentors had 


SIONOBA RIA. 


109 


grown out of their childish mischief, or had foi’gotten 
him, and as he was well dressed and respectable look- 
ing, he passed through the city without being disturbed. 
Still he never entered the gate of San Miniato that he 
did not experience an uncomfortable feeling, and he 
was never quite at his ease until he found himself on 
his way back, and in sight of his own little cottage 
under the two tall cypress trees. 

On this eighth anniversary of the day when he had 
brought the infant to his hovel, he had completed the 
most important work he had ever attempted, the figure 
of a child pursuing a butterfiy, and he was satisfied 
with it as he had never been before with anything that 
he had done. He well knew that it was exquisite in 
.form, graceful, plastic, full of movement, that the up- 
lifted hands and radiant face expressed childish, exu- 
berant life, the earnest eyes expectancy and desire. He 
had succeeded in representing marvellously well what 
was in his soul and what he had modelled from, for the 
statue was the matchless image of Lisa, changed, as it 
were, from softly-rounded fiesh into cold fixed marble. 

He was thinking now of his work as he sat there 
alone in the gathering twilight, and a feeling of deep 
satisfaction, at its successful completion, filled his heart. 

God has been good to me, much better than I have 
deserved, and I will go to the church and return thanks 
to Him for all His mercies. The bells of San Sal- 


no 


8IGN0BA PIA. 


vador are ringing for Yespers, they seem to call me 
with their clear, sweet tones, and I will obey them. 
My Lisa sleeps, and the Blessed Virgin will watch over 
her until I return. 

Going slowly down the hill toward the church, his 
thoughts naturally reverted to that night eight years 
before. It was about the same hour, the sweet, solemn 
Ave Maria^ and already the shadows were gathering 
under the cypress trees, but surely that was not a shadow, 
the dark object which he saw crouched on the ground 
as though it were praying or weeping. 

For a moment the old feeling of superstition and 
horror took possession of him, perhaps it was the spirit 
of the mother that had returned to weep on the spot 
where her child had been taken from her. 

His heart ceased to beat, his limbs seemed palsied, 
and he could neither advance nor retreat, great drops 
of sweat streamed down his face, and a thick mist 
gathered before his eyes. In a moment he certainly 
would have fallen to the ground, for reason and strength 
deserted him at once, had not the figure covered its face 
suddenly and burst into loud sobs. 

There was something human in such grief that 
touched the tender chord in Hugo’s nature ; recovering 
himself immediately he went toward the woman, for 
he now saw that it was a woman and no spirit, and put- 
ting his hand gently on her bent head he asked her 


SIGNORA PIA, 


111 


why she wept, and if he could do aught to help her. 
He had often been in sore need himself, he had often 
fallen on his knees in some lonely spot and implored 
God to aid him, so he knew how to pity another in such 
a strait. 

The woman raised her head at the sound of his voice, 
and then started back in affright at the strange figure 
bending over her, which in the gathering darkness 
seemed more like an evil spirit than a good one. 

Hugo saw the gesture with bitter pain, but neverthe- 
less hastened to reassure her, saying gently, “I)o not 
fear me, I am a poor misshapen creature, it is true, but 
my heart is not bad. I have suffered myself, and I 
know how to pity others who are in distress. Tell me, 
can I do aught to aid you?” 

The woman raised her haggard, weary face to his 
with more confidence, for his sympathetic voice had 
touched her heart, and she no longer feared him. I 
am hungry and weary,” she said ; “ can you give me 
food and shelter ? ” 

“ Yes, I can give you both,” replied Hugo promptly ; 
tlien he thought of Lisa and hesitated, or I can give 
you a little money, if you have none, and you can find 
what you need in Florence.” 

‘‘Alas! I am exhausted, and can go no further. 
Your gift of money would be useless, for I have no 
strength to find a place where food is sold.” 


112 


SIGNORA PIA. 


“ Why are you here beyond the city ? You could 
scarce expect succor in this lonely spot.” 

“ I have come from a long distance. I am foot- 
sore with my journeying over rough roads, and I 
thought to reach the city to-night; but my strength 
lias failed me, and I cannot go on. I did not expect 
aid here on this deserted road, yet I prayed to the 
Virgin, and she has heard me when I least hoped for 
it.” 

“ Have you friends in Florence, and a shelter when 
you reach the city ? ” 

“Alas! no. Signore, I am alone in the world.” 

“You cannot be a stranger in these parts, for your 
speech seems to be that of Tuscany ? ” 

“ I am a native of Florence, Signore, but I have 
been absent for years.” 

“ And now you would return I ” 

“ Yes, but God only knows why, for I have neither 
kith nor kin, nor any to welcome me.” 

“ Why did you leave your native city to seek a home 
among strangers ? ” asked Hugo, watching her closely. 

“ Ah I Signore, who can tell what prompts the human 
heart to seek for change ? ” 

“ It was no misfortune, no fault then of your own ? 
I pray you to deal fairly with me, for I have a good 
reason for all I ask.” 

“ I will. Signore, for something in your manner in- 


SIGNORA PIA. 


113 


spires me with confidence. It was a misfortune, but 
not a fault, that caused me to leave Florence.” 

“Were you forced to quit the city ? ” 

“ No, I was not forced, but I feared to stay ; I pray 
you ask me no more, for my secret is my own, and I 
cannot reveal it.” 

“ You feared to stay, and now you dare return, how 
is that ? Does the misfortune that caused you to leave 
no longer exist ? ” 

“ I know not. Signore — I cannot say. I beg you to 
question me no more. I am returning in the hope that 
I am forgotten by the few who once knew me, and I 
think I shall not be disappointed, for my former self 
would never be recognized in the pooi* wayfarer before 
you.” 

“ Your speech shows that your position in life must 
have once been superior to your present condition.” 

“It was. Signore, I was respectably born and 
reared.” 

For a moment Hugo remained in silent thought, 
while the woman leaned wearily against the trunk of 
a cypress, as though her strength was well nigh ex- 
hausted. At length he spoke again, gravely, and 
gently. 

“ You are a stranger to me, and I know naught of 
vour character, whether it be good or evil, but I like 
your speech, and I believe you to be an honest woman. 


114 


SIGNORA PIA, 


I am an artist, and I live alone in a little cottage yon- 
der with my only child, a girl of eight years. For 
some time I have needed a trusty woman to take 
charge of my humble household ; but I have always 
shrunk from admitting a stranger into the peaceable 
privacy of my home, and particularly a woman that 
would brawl and gossip, and run into the town, and 
have a crowd of relatives and followers after her ; who 
would eat and drink and waste ray substance — for that 
is what a servant does — instead of being quiet, indus- 
trious, and frugal ; a common, coarse woman that 
would make my little Lisa like herself from being so 
constantly with her, and who would do both her and 
me more harm than good. 

Such as these are all that I have hitherto been able 
to find, and I want none of them ; but you seem of a 
different character, your speech is gentle and refined, 
and you have no relations to annoy me, and no interest 
in the city, and no motive to gossip. Therefore, if you 
will accept my humble offer, I will give you food and 
shelter and what further I can spare, and you will in 
return take care of my child and keep my house neat 
and clean, use your needle to fashion our garments, 
and in short do all you can for my interest. Do you 
accept these conditions ? ” 

“ Thankfully and willingly. Signore, for all I ask in 
this world is what you have offered me — a respectable 


SIGNORA PIA. 


115 


roof to shelter me and honest labor for my hands. 
God surely has sent you to me in my sore need, and I 
will go with you gladly.” 

“ Then let us hasten from here, for night is fast 
gathering, and you need food and rest,” said Hugo, 
kindly assisting her to mount the steep ascent. 

She could not have gone on alone, for more than 
once she stopped and seemed about to sink to the 
ground ; but the hunchback supported her feeble steps, 
and encouraged her to renewed effort, until he reached 
the gate that opened into his little garden. 

“Ah! this looks like home. I am sure I shall find 
peace here,” said the stranger with heartfelt gratitude, 
as Hugo ushered her into his neat apartment that 
served as salon^ studio, and dining-room. 

When he had brought a light, and the woman had 
removed her veil that partly hid her features, Hugo 
looked at her a moment with a close scrutiny that evi- 
dently satisfied him, for he put the lamp on a table and 
poured her a glass of wine, which she drank eagerly, 
looking at him with tearful, thankful eyes when she 
had emptied the glass. 

She was evidently fifty years of age, with a thin, 
sad face full of intelligence and gentleness, smooth gray 
hair combed neatly back from a frank, open forehead, 
quiet manners, and a low, soft voice. 

Wliile Hugo went to seek some food for her, she 


116 


SIGNORA PIA. 


carefully studied the pretty room with a contented ex- 
pression on her worn face, and when he returned she 
said in a broken voice : 

“ How can I be thankful enough to you ? It seems 
like Heaven to me here after the weariness and suffer- 
ing I have endured.” 

“ If I have made one human being happy, I am con- 
tented,” said Hugo ; “ but do not thank me, thank the 
Blessed Virgin, who sent me to you. How take this 
food, and then you may sleep in Lisa’s little room, for 
you surely need rest — but first tell me your name, for 
I know not what to call you.” 

‘‘ I am called,” she hesitated a moment, and then 
added, “ you may call me Pia, Signora Pia.” 

“ How I will show you my child,” said Hugo, tak- 
ing the lamp, and you will love her when you see 
what an angel she is.” 

An hour afterward Signora Pia, instead of reposing 
peacefully, as a weary traveller should, was kneeling 
by the bed of the sleeping child, weeping as though 
her heart would break. 


LISA AND THE DUCHESS. 


117 


CHAPTEE YIII. 

LISA AND THE DUCHESS. 

TIE Duchess of Castellara was alone in her 
morning room, as it was too early for visitors 
to be admitted, yet she was evidently expect- 
ing some one, and, judging from her expression of im- 
patience and vexation, the anticipated interview was 
not of a pleasant nature. 

She was exquisitely dressed in a morning toilette of 
pale blue silk neglige over a petticoat of delicate 
embroideiy, white slippers ornamented with golden 
buckles set with pearls, soft lace around her neck and 
arms, and a dainty little cap with blue ribbons set jaunt- 
ily on one side of a tower of golden puffs and curls ; 
her white hands were covered wdth jewels, and strings 
of immense pearls were twisted around her neck and 
arms, while the clasps that fastened her robe each con- 
tained a pearl pure enough, and of such a size as to 
render it worthy a princely diadem. 

In one hand she held a gold -mounted fan, and a 
handkerchief of the most delicate texture, in the other 
a book in costly binding, which she only glanced at 



118 


LISA AND THE DUCHESS. 


from time to time, being evidently too much disturbed 
to read or even think. 

The room was a marvel of luxurious splendor ; a 
white velvet carpet strewn with roses and lilies cov- 
ered the centre of the inlaid floor. Mirrors in frosted 
silver frames decorated the walls, which were frescoed 
in the most artistic and dainty style, each panel dis- 
playing some charming rural scene after the manner 
of Watteau, while the ceiling was covered with pale 
blue silk, studded with silver stars and upheld by the 
chubby hands of winged loves, wrought from the same 
precious metal. The furniture was of heavy white 
satin and velvet, strewn with pale roses, and yellow 
green moss, picked out here and there with silver 
threads ; and the lamps that depended from the ceil- 
ing, and the sconces between the mirrors were of the 
most delicate Venetian workmanship. Roses and lilies 
bloomed everywhere in transparent crystal vases, and 
a little fountain of crystal and silver threw its misty 
spray over a bed of moss studded with odorous Parma 
violets. 

Surrounded by such beauty and fragrance, how could 
the lovely face of the Duchess be clouded, and her 
heart be heavy ? 

Alas ! for her, her splendor was what the gilded bars 
of the cage are to the poor bird that beats itself to 
death in the vain effort to regain its liberty. This 


L18A AND THE DUCHESS. 


119 


magnificent palace with its countless roomSj its gold 
and silver, and precious stones, its pictures and statu- 
ary, and costly tapestry, its fountains and gardens, and 
all its pomp and splendor, was her prison, and so to her 
was no more than the dreariest cell where a weary con- 
vict pines and longs for freedom or death. 

At length, the Duchess, wearied with waiting, touches 
a bell on the table near her, and a smart Frenchwoman 
with keen eyes and silken speech, enters. 

“Lisette, ask the Duke’s valet if his master is still in 
his chamber. I am not inclined to await his visit much 
longer.” 

“ He is dressing, your highness, his barber is with 
him.” 

“ This is too disgusting ; it is midday, and other visi- 
tors will soon arrive ; and I wished to get rid of this 
hateful interview first,” said the Duchess to herself, as 
the door closed upon her maid. 

“ I have not seen him for six weeks, and why sliould 
1 now ? I really cannot understand why he wishes to 
intrude upon my privacy this morning. I suppose I 
must endure it, as he announced his desire for an in- 
terview. What can he have to say ? I wonder that he 
cannot communicate to me through my father, or my 
man of affairs. Some absurd nonsense, I suppose, about 
the Duke de Beaumont ; and he may as well save his 
breath as to waste it, for if the Duke de Beaumont 


120 


LISA AND THE DUCHESS. 


contributes anything in the world to my pleasure, and 
if his society relieves a little the ennui that is gnawing 
my heart out, I shall receive him, and accept his atten- 
tions in spite of all the world, or the Duke of Castellara 
either.” 

At that moment there was a knock at her door, and 
a stately servant in scarlet and gold livery announced 
his highness, the Duke of Castellara. 

The Duchess rose with dignity, and bowed coldly. 
The Duke advanced and took her hand, pressing it 
ceremoniously to his lips. 

The Duchess was the first to speak : “ To what do I 
owe the honor of j^our visit this morning, Duke ? ” 

“ Allow me to sit down. Duchess, for the label’s of 
my toilette have fatigued me ; and then 1 will answer 
your question.” 

“ Oh ! pray choose your own time ; at your age one 
moves slowly, and is not hurried by the impetuosity of 
youth,” returned the Duchess with cutting sarcasm. 

“ Thank you ; you are inclined to be more charming 
and gracious than usual, this morning,” replied the 
Duke with cool irony. 

“If 3 ^our highness has anything of importance to 
communicate to me, 1 beg that you will do so ; that is, 
if you are sufficiently rested to endure the exertion of 
speech, as I expect other visitors and I should like to 
be at liberty to receive them.” 


LISA AND THE DUCHESS. 


121 


“ All ! the Duke de Beaumont, I presume ? ” 

“ Yes, I await the Duke de Beaumont.” 

‘‘Your frankness is only exceeded by your impa- 
tience, which you may as well curb a little, as our inter- 
view is not likely to be a short one.” 

“ Indeed ? ” 

“I believe it is eight years since you became the 
Duchess of Castellara. Am I not right ? ” 

“ According to the calendar, you are right, Duke ; 
but according to my own reckoning of the time, I 
should say it had been eight eternities.” 

“ You are extravagant ; there can be but one eter- 
nity, and that sits well upon you, for you look younger 
and more charming than you did on our wedding-day.” 

The Duchess made no reply, but impatiently twirled 
her fan, while she smiled scornfully. 

“ It seems that we cannot agree as to the time that 
you have been the Duchess of Castellara, but that mat- 
ters little, it is sufficient to say that it has been long 
enough to have taught you prudence.” 

“ In what respect, Duke ? ” 

“ In respect to your liaison with the Duke de Beau- 
mont.” 

“ Indeed. I was not aware that I had been so im- 
prudent. And if it were true, is it not a common and 
undignified expression to use to the Duchess of Cas- 
tellara ? ” 


6 


122 


LISA AND THE DUCHESS. 


“I should saj not when all Florence couples your 
name with your French lover.” 

“ I beg that you will not insult me, for I am not in 
the mood to bear it,” returned the Duchess rising sud- 
denly, pacing the floor rapidly, her face deadly pale, her 
eyes glittering ominously. 

“ I am telling you but the truth.” 

“ Then, I pray you, select your language, for it offends 
me with its coarseness, and flnish your vulgar slander as 
soon as possible.” 

“ I repeat again that it is not slander, that it is the 
result of your own folly.” 

“Well, providing that be true, of what use to retail 
it to me ? I have heard the same story from your lips a 
dozen times before, and it makes no more impression 
on me than a bubble on a wall of adamant.” 

“For Heaven’s sake, if you have no respect for your- 
self have some for the name you bear ; do not drag it 
through the mire and dirt.” 

“ The name I bear is as hateful to me as the one who 
conferred it upon me by the basest deception. I re- 
spect neither the one nor the other, and if without 
ruining my own self I could blacken your name, I 
would make it darker and viler than the lowest pit in 
the infernal regions.” 

“ Truly an amiable and pleasant declaration ; but I 
will prevent you from disgracing me any further.” 


LISA AND THE DUCHESS 


123 


“ You will never prevent me if I choose to do it. 
When you and my father plotted my sacrifice, you did 
not think that you were turning the honey of my nature 
into gall, that you were changing a gentle and loving 
woman into a demon of hate and scorn. Or if you 
thought it you did not care. You have made me a reck- 
less, heartless woman. iSTow reap the reward of your 
own crime.” 

“ Then you will not listen to me ; then you will not 
promise to break off this intimacy with de Beaumont ? ” 

“No, 1 have told you before that 1 will not; he 
amuses me and pleases me, and I will not be deprived 
of his society.” 

“ 1 forbid you to receive him to-day. I am resolved.” 

“ And I am resolved to see him. I pray that you 
will not drive me to some disgraceful extremity.” 

“ He shall not enter my palace.” 

“Then I will meet him clandestinely, and all the 
world will know that the Duke of Gastellara suspects 
the honor of his wife, and has closed his door against 
his rival.” 

“ Ah ! you madden me, and I will not endure this 
any longer.” 

“ How can you help it ? I have told you dozens of 
times that it was folly for you to interfere with my 
affaii's. I leave you to go your way ; pray oblige me by 
giving me the same privilege.” 


124 


LI8A AND THE DUCHESS. 


Do you intend to drive with de Beaumont to-day 
in the Casein e 1 ” 

‘‘ I have made an engagement with him to do so, and 
I never break a promise.” 

‘‘ Then, by heaven, you shall break this one, for you 
shall not appear in public again by liis side.” 

“ How will you prevent it ? ” 

I will kill him ! ” cried the Duke, now fairly be- 
side himself with rage and indignation at the cold con- 
tempt of the Duchess. 

“ What folly to make a threat that you will not put 
into execution.” 

‘‘ Has the Duke of Castellara ever had the reputation 
of being a coward ? Has he ever suffered a rival to 
come between him and his honor ? I tell you if you 
drive to-day on the Cascine with the Duke de Beau- 
mont, before this time to-morrow he will be in eter- 
nity.” 

“ And the Duchess of Castellara disgraced forever 1 
for what is now only the suspicion of the evil-minded, 
will be then a certainty to the good and noble. De- 
stroy your own honor if you will, debase your own 
name if it suits you, but I shall drive to-day with the 
Duke de Beaumont. I have the honor of wishing your 
highness good -morning; other visitors await me,” and 
with a haughty bow the Duchess of Castellara left the 
room before her husband could utter another word. 


LISA AND THE DUCHESS. 


125 


When the Duchess left her husband, her heart full 
of anger and hate, she found Enrico, with a troubled 
and anxious face, waiting to see her. 

“ I am so glad you are not gone out, cousin,” he said, 
as he took her hand and led her to a chair, “ for I have 
a request to make of you that will not admit of delay.” 

‘‘ Indeed ! what can it be that requires such imme- 
diate attention ? ” 

“ Elena, I ask you as a favor not to drive with the 
Duke de Beaumont to-day.” 

“ There it is, Enrico, you at last must torment me ; 
it is not enough to be bored to death by others, to lis- 
ten to my husband’s folly, but you, my friend, who at 
least might have some consideration, you are like all 
the rest.” 

“ It is because I have the greatest consideration for 
you, Elena, that I ask this favor. You know I lovo 
you, that I am heart and soul your friend, and that I 
have no selfish interest in the matter.” 

“ Explain your reason for this singular request.” 

“ I do not wish you to drive with de Beaumont to- 
day, because if you do it will provoke an open quarrel 
between him and the Duke of Castellara, and your 
husband’s jealousy will be the cause of it.” 

“ Thank Heaven if he is jealous at last, I have done 
all I could to make him so, and I sincerely hope he 
will suffer the tortures of the damned.” 


126 


LISA AND THE DUCHESS. 


“ Oh, Elena ! I pray you not to be so bitter. It is 
not only your husband you are injuring, but it is your- 
self and all who love you. I entreat you for sahe, 
if you value my friendship, not to go to the Cased iie 
to-day in company with the Duke de Beaumont.” 

“ I have sworn to Castellara that I would drive wdth 
de Beaumont. I have defied him, and I cannot change 
mj^ determination now. If I do, he will think I have 
yielded to his request, and I would rather suffer any 
torture, any disgrace, than to allow him to suppose that 
he has the slightest influence over me.” 

Then you will not listen to me, Elena? ” returned 
Enrico, sadly. “ And I, your best friend, have no in- 
fluence with you either.” 

The Duchess remained silent a moment, her proud 
face as inscrutable as a sphinx, while Enrico watched 
anxiously, to see if he could discover any signs of re- 
lenting. 

At length, she said firmly, “It is no use, Enrico ; as 
much as I love you and value your interest in me, I 
cannot refuse to drive with de Beaumont to-day. I 
shall drive with him as I said I would, but there will 
be no trouble ; rest assured there will be no quarrel at 
the Cascine, or no cause for it. You can trust me to 
keep my promise to you.” 

“ Ah ! thank you, cousin. ISTow I am happier, for you 
have removed a heavy burden from my heart. I un- 


LISA AND TEE DUCHESS. 


127 


derstaiid Castellara’s implacable nature so well, and I 
know that when lie has once decided upon any course 
of action lie will never abandon his intention. To-day 
he has determined to prevent your being seen in the 
Cascine with de Beaumont. 

“ That is enough, Enrico ; now let us dismiss this 
hateful subject,” said the Duchess with rising color and 
flashing eyes. 

At that moment a footman announced his highness 
the Duke de Beaumont. 

An hour after the elegant equipage of the Duchess 
stood waiting for her in the court of the palace, and a 
footman in blue and white livery held the door open 
as she descended the broad marble stairs, leaning on 
the arm of the young Duke de Beaumont. When she 
was seated in her luxurious carriage, with de Beau- 
mont by her side, and the servant waited in respectful 
silence to receive her order, he was surprised to hear 
her say: “Drive to San Miniato al Monte,” instead of 
her usual direction, “ To the Cascine.” 

A moment after the Duchess had given her instruc- 
tions to the footman, and before the sound of her retreat- 
ing wheels had ceased to reverberate in the court, the 
Duke of Castellara appeared with pale face, com- 
pressed lips, and dogged determination in his glittering 
eyBS. Hastily stepping into a small close carriage that 
drew up to the grand entrance in obedience to an im- 


128 


LISA AND THE DUCHESS. 


perative wave of his hand, he said, in a diard, husky- 
voice : To the Cascine, as quickly as possible.’’ 

During the drive the Duchess was silent and ab- 
sorbed, and her companion tried in vain to arouse her 
from her abstraction. When at last they drew up 
before the church of San Miniato, and the Duchess 
leaving her carriage, stood for a moment on the terrace 
looking back at the city below her, her face softened 
and a long-drawn weary sigh fell on the ear of de 
Beaumont. 

“ Why are you so triste to-day. Duchess ? ” he asked 
as they entered the . silent, sombre church, “ and why 
have you, instead of the bright sunny Cascine, chosen 
to visit this gloomy spot with its tombs and shadows ? ” 

“ Because I am in the mood for tombs and shadows. 
I like a change. I hate sunlight, music, and laughter, 
always, and prefer, for variety, darkness and silence, 
but if you find it unbearable you can be driven to the 
Cascine, and I will remain here until my carriage 
returns.” 

“ Now, Duchess, you are cruel ; you know that every 
place where you are is beautiful to me ; your smile, the 
light of your heavenly eyes make sunshine to me in 
the dreariest spot.” 

“ That will do, Duke, let this flattery and pretty 
speech-making be enough for to-day. I am not in- 
clined to hear it. I told you I was gloomy and preoc- 


LISA AND THE DV CHESS. 


129 


cupied, therefore it will please me better to listen to 
graver things.” 

“Well, what shall we discuss? religion, politics, or 
love ? ” 

“ Either of the former ; the latter I detest, as I have 
told you a thousand times.” 

“Ah! Duchess, you are most cruel. I am in tortures, 
one moment, daring to hope, the next, cast down to the 
lowest depths of despair.” 

“ Due de Beaumont, is it necessary for me to re- 
peat again what I have so often said ? ” 

• IS’o, no, your highness ; spare me, and I will be 
silent, for I cannot endure your scorn.” 

“ Then never speak to me of love. I am unac- 
quainted with such an emotion. I know of no other 
desires than those of pride and ambition.” 

“ You wrong yourself. Duchess ; a sweeter, nobler 
heart never beat in a woman’s breast.” 

“ You are mistaken, my friend, I have no heart. I 
sometimes have impulses, and they are rarely good and 
unselfish.” 

“ Ah I What is this ? ” cried de Beaumont, before 
the Duchess had finished her sentence. “ As I live, a 
child asleep here on the steps of the altar.” 

“ And how lovely,” said the Duchess, bending over her 
and stroking softly with trembling fingers the masses of 
golden hair that lay in disorder around her rosy face. 


/ 


130 


LISA AND TEE DUCHESS. 


“ And she seems to be quite alone/’ said de Beau- 
mont looking at her admiringly. 

I wonder how she came here ? ” and the Duchess 
stooped still lower to hide the tears that tilled her eyes. 
“ Lovely innocent, sleeping here at the foot of the altar 
among these gloomy tombs as sweetly as though she 
were resting on a bed of flowers under some shady 
tree.” 

At that moment the child opened her beautiful eyes, 
and without manifesting any astonishment, smiled in 
the sweet face bending over her, and said, as she 
raised herself on one elbow, “ I was dreaming of angels, 
and I thought you were one.” 

Then seeing the Duke de Beaumont, she blushed 
timidly and looked down. 

Where did you come from, sweet child ? ” asked 
the Duchess sitting on the altar steps by her side and 
twisting the rings of her soft hair around her own deli- 
cately gloved Anger. 

I live near, in the little cottage under the cypress 
trees, and I come here every day.” 

“ What is your name ? ” 

“ Fiordilisa, Signora, but papa calls me Lisa, because 
it is shorter.” 

“ A pretty name, and it suits you well,” returned 
the Duchess looking at her tenderly, ‘‘for you are as 
fair as a lily and as graceful.” 


LISA AND THE DUCHESS. 


131 


Have you never seen this face before, Duchess ? ” 
asked de Beaumont after he had gazed at the child 
steadily. 

“ Hever, that I am aware of, and yet it strikes me 
familiarly.” 

* ‘‘ Is it not like the face of that exquisite statuette 
you purchased the other day on the Ponte Yecchio? ” 

“ Yes, now you speak of it I discover the resem- 
blance, but, I presume it is only accidental.” 

“Probably, but it is like a copy of this face,” re- 
turned the Duke. 

While this conversation was going on between the 
Duchess and de Beaumont, the child studied, with wide 
open eyes, the face of the lady. 

“ Why do you look at me so, my child ? ” asked the 
Duchess drawing her to her side. 

“Because it seems to me that you must be the 
Angel of the Church,” the one papa always speaks of. 
He has her image near the crucifix, and he tells me I 
must love it next to the Virgin.” 

“ The Angel of the Church,” repeated the Duchess 
slowly and with a far-away look. “ I have heard 
that expression before, and it awakes some strange 
memory ; but it is nothing only a memory. Ho, my 
sweet child, I am no angel, I am but a poor unhappy 
woman.” 

“The child is right,” said de Beaumont with an 


132 


LISA AND THE DUCHESS. 


admiring glance. She discovers in you what you will 
not allow others to see.” 

“ Have you no mamma, Lisa ? ” asked the Duchess 
without noticing the Duke’s remark, “ that you speak 
of your papa only ? ” 

“ Ah ! no, Signora, my mamma is dead, she died 
when I was a baby.” 

‘‘ And you live alone with your papa ? ” 

“ No, not now, for Signoi’a Fia has come to live with 
us, and she will stay with us always. She is very good, 
and I love her dearly.” 

“ And so you come here often, do you ? ” 

“ Yes, Signora, I come every day to this altar to say 
my prayers, and sometimes when I am tired I go to 
sleep, and then the Blessed Yirgin takes care of me.” 

“ Sweet innocent, will you pray for me sometimes ? 
for I need the prayers of such as you. Now addio^ 
and do not forget me, and I will come again some day 
to see you. Here, take this and keep it always,” and 
unfastening a rosary of exquisite workmanship from 
her belt she threw it around the child’s neck, and then 
stooping, pressed a kiss on her white forehead, where 
she left more than one tear — such tears as did not often 
fall from the proud eyes of the Duchess of Castellara. 

When Lisa, flushed and delighted, rushed into her 
V father’s presence and told him of the beautiful lady 
she had seen in the church, and showed him the rosary 


THE STATUE OF AUBORA. 


133 


slie had given her, Hugo looked grave, and said, more 
severely than he had ever spoken to her ; 

“ You did wrong, my child to talk to a stranger and 
accept a gift. Never do it again, unless you wish to 
displease me ; and never go again to the church with- 
out Signora Pia.” 

“ But I may wear the rosary ? ” asked Lisa, caressing 
it fondly, “ and I may pray for the sweet lady, may I 
not papa? ” 

“ Yes, my child,’’ replied Hugo ; “ but remember in 
the future that you are never to talk with strangers.” 


CHAPTEB IX. 

THE STA.TUE OF AUKORA. 

is a rare work, a wonderful work. I have 
seen nothing equal to it produced by modern 
genius. It has all the grace, purity, and dig- 
nity of the antique, combined with the careful study, 
plastic movement, and dainty detail of the best school.” 

“ Who is Hugo ? ” 

“ Do any of you gentlemen know the artist who seems 
so suddenly to have sprung into notice ? On the base 
of the statue I see the simple name ‘ Hugo.’ Who is 



134 


THE STATUE OF AURORA. 


Hugo? I should like to know, for if this exquisite 
figure is for sale I will purchase it.” 

I think I can give you the information you desire, 
Signore,” replied a pale little man, with large eyes, 
hungry expression, and shabby dress, which denoted 
that he belonged to the great army of mart^^rs whose 
labors, self-denial, and patient suffering are never re- 
warded, appreciated, or understood. “He is called 
Hugo and has no other name that 1 ever heard of ; he 
is a hunchback, and he now lives in the Yia di San 
Gallo near the gate, though until recently he dwelt in 
a little cottage on San Miniato with his only child a 
beautiful girl, who has always borne the title of the 
Lily of San Miniato. She is now about sixteen, and is 
as fair and graceful as the flower she is named for. 
But you can judge of her beauty for she was the model 
for this work, as she is for everything he does.” 

“ What ! you do not mean to say that this exquisite 
figure is modelled after his own daughter, and that she 
is as lovely as this divine creation ? ” 

“ She is of the most remarkable beauty. Signore, 
and I am told that she is as gentle and virtuous as she 
is beautiful, and that he has never employed any other 
model, but has always worked from her, and he has 
produced the most wonderful studies of children in 
every pose you can imagine — sleeping and waking, 
merry and sad, human and angelic. These dainty 


THE STATUE OF AUROBA. 


135 


figures are sold in every shop in Florence, and the de- 
mand for them has been so great that he has amassed 
quite a snug fortune, for they say he adores the lovely 
Lisa, and is a miser, that he may lay aside a handsome 
dower for her.” 

Have you ever seen this prodigy of beauty, this 
fair flower that he prizes so highly ? ” 

Only once. Signore.” 

“ And how did it happen that you were so favored ? ” 

“ I chanced to see her in the Torrigiani gardens with 
her father.” 

“ And doe^ rumor exaggerate her charms ? ” 

‘‘No, indeed. Signore ; she is lovely beyond all com- 
parison.” 

“ How can one get a glimpse of this divinity ? ” 

“ I cannot tell you, for the hunchback, in spite of his 
genius, is a strange character — a proud, reticent man, 
who has no associates, and who lives in the strictest se- 
clusion, guarding his treasure with all the careful vigi- 
lance of Cerberus.” 

“ I am interested in this artist, and also in his lovely 
model, and am determined to make their acquain- 
tance.” 

“ I am afraid that will not be easy. Signore.” 

“ I wonder if a commission for a statue would ad- 
mit me into his confidence ? ” 

“ Doubtless it would, for I have been told that his 


186 


THE STATUE OF AUROUA, 


only vulnerable point is his love of money. He has the 
greatest ambition to be rich, and apart from that desire, 
and his affection for his daughter, he has no other in- 
terest in life.” 

“ Are you acquainted with him ? ” 

“ I have met him and spoken with him a few times, 
but I have never been to his studio ; in fact, he has 
never invited me — he is very distant, and avoids all 
communication with his brother artists, especially those 
who are fortunate, rich, and popular. I am not of that 
happy number, therefore he treats me with some little 
consideration.” 

“ A disagreeable, conceited fellow I should say \ ” 

“Ho, Signore, hardly that; he seems very gentle, 
and at times almost humble, and will talk pleasantly 
on any subject beside his own affairs ; but if one dares 
to approach him with the least familiarity or intimacy, 
he immediately becomes haughty, reserved, and silent.” 

“ It would require some tact, then, to get admitted to 
his distinguished presence ? ” 

“Yes, Signore, I think it would, for he seems to 
avoid and dislike strangers.” 

“ Do you suppose it would be possible for you to 
arrange a meeting between him and me, so that I may 
make my proposals in regard to an order for a 
statue ? ” 

“ I will try. Signore, and if you are lucky enough to 


THE STATUE OF AURORA.] 


137 


gain admission to his house, you will be the first one 
who ever has ; for, although nearly every artist in 
Florence has plotted and planned to obtain a glimpse 
of this lovely model, they have been failed in every 
attempt, and I, alone, am the only happy one among 
them ; but my good fortune in that respect is owing 
to my misfortune in other things, for I am so ugly and 
poor, that there is no danger for her in an encounter 
with me, so, when I met them accidentally in a se- 
cluded part of the garden, the hunchback did not run 
away like a timid hare, and the lovely Lisa did not 
draw her thick veil over her face until I had feasted 
my eyes for a moment on her charms.’’ 

‘‘ Lucky mortal, I wish I had been in your place.” 

“ If you had, you would not have met with my good 
fortune, a handsome young noble like you would have 
alarmed the poor man to such an extent that he would 
have enveloped his fair lily in a twinkling, and hur- 
ried her away before you had a chance to get the first 
glimpse of her beauty.” 

“ It might have been so, but still I should like to try 
the experiment. Now, tell me, do they visit the gar- 
den often, and do they usually resort to the same se- 
cluded spot ? ” 

“ As to their visiting the garden. Signore, I cannot 
say whether they are there often or not, for I have 
never seen them but once ; but doubtless when they 


138 


THE STATUE OF AURORA. 


do go, they seek the most retired place, where they 
will be freest from observation.” 

“ And where is that place ? ” 

‘‘ In the northeast corner, under an acacia tree, near 
the mined statue of Fauna.” 

At what hour did you meet them there ? ” 

“ Near Ave MariaP 

“ Well, I will try my luck to-morrow, and if I ad- 
mire this goddess of beauty as much as I do her marble 
image, I will report to you, and you must try to ar- 
range an introduction to Cerberus.” 

“ Bene, Signore, a rivedercB 

The above dialogue was conducted near a statue of 
Aurora, exhibited in the Academia delle Belle Arti, 
at FloreiKie, during the season of 1839. And the two 
persons engaged in the conversation were the Russian 
Count Valdimer Nordiskoff, a rich patron of art, as 
well as an amateur of no mean merit, and a poor copy- 
ist in the Galleria, who had volunteered the informa- 
tion respecting the unknown sculptor, as he stood 
among a group of artists around the wonderful work 
that excited their most ardent admiration. 

The sun was slowly slipping down behind the dusky 
acacia trees near the fountain and the statue of Fauna 
in the Torrigiani gardens, as a handsome, distinguished 
looking man, with light curly hair and pleasant brown 
eyes, sauntered carelessly toward the secluded spot, 


THE STATUE OF AURORA. 


139 


where the marble goddess stood, white and graceful, 
against the background of laurel and rose that twined 
together in loving embrace around the gnarled trunk 
of an ancient ilex ; as he went on humming a gay air, 
and switching lightly the grass and flowers with the 
cane he carried in his well-gloved hand, he glanced in 
eager scrutiny from side to side as if in search of 
something he longed to And. 

He was Count Yaldimer Nordiskoff, the rich young 
Hussian, who had passed a number of winters in Flor- 
ence, and who lived in one of the most elegant palaces 
on the Lung ’Arno, who drove the flnest horses in the 
Cascine, who owned the handsomest yacht that had 
ever sailed in Italian waters, and who had one of the 
most charming villas on Lake Como, where he enter- 
tained, during the summer, the fashionable, wealthy, and 
beautiful of the fair city of flowers. 

Although he was adored by all the distinguished 
belles and flattered by their manoeuvering mammas, he 
still remained uncaught in the matrimonial net, and it 
was generally conceded that it was useless to fish for 
him, since he was the devoted cavaliere servante of the 
Duchess of Castellara, who, in spite of her thirty-six 
years, still remained the most beautiful and the most 
fascinating woman in Florence. 

As Count Yaldimer sauntered along, looking care- 
lessly to the right and left, his mind was occupied 


140 


THE STATUE OF AURORA, 


with some such thoughts as these : “ I wonder what 
the Duchess would say if she knew of this adventure ? 
She thinks I adore the very ground she walks on, and 
so I did once, but I am getting over such folly. I am 
weary of her platonic affection. I am weary of devot- 
ing myself to a woman who has so little heart. It is 
true she is beautiful and possesses a strange power, but 
she is destitute of all tenderness, all passion. Wliat 
she calls love — the noblest, the most sacred of love — 
I sometimes think is mere calculation, selfishness, and 
vanity. If she loved me, she would not endure for 
one day the bondage of her lot as Castellara’s wfife. She 
would fly with me from this city, where she is so 
wretched, and seek another and a happier life, con- 
tented with my love and devotion. 

‘‘ I know she hates her husband with unutterable hate, 
and I think she loves me as much as she is capable of 
loving any one ; and if she were free to-day she would 
gladly become my wife. If she were free ? Well, would 
I be as ready, as I have thought I would a thousand 
times, to offer her my hand and name ? Ah ! it is weary 
waiting ; for four years now I have lived on her smile, 
her favor. I have endured all the strange caprices of 
her nature — her tears, her sadness, her scorn, at times ; I 
have studied her day by day, and yet I know not if 
she loves me, I know not if she has a heart or whether 
she is but the vain, cruel coquette the world calls her. 


THE STATUE OF AUEORA. 


141 


“ However, it must end ; I cannot endure this life any 
longer. Castellara is jealous to desperation, and it is 
only his fear of his wife that prevents a terrible catas- 
trophe. Beside, my love and friendship for Enrico is 
another motive to save his cousin from dishonor. Her 
name is connected with mine as no honest woman’s 
should be, and any rash act of the I)uke would ruin her 
irretrievably. I am sick of fashionable intrigue, and 
the lovely face of that exquisite statue I saw yesterday 
haunts me with its serene tenderness. If the original 
is as fair and I can win her love, I will try, and I will 
be honest in my affection, if she is worthy of it.” 

On a stone bench under a cluster of granita, flaming 
with its blossoms of vivid red, sat two flgures — a sallow, 
sad-faced, deformed man, dressed in dark clothes, plain, 
but exquisitely neat, and by his side a young girl of 
such dazzling beauty that the unfortunate creature by 
her side seemed in comparison a monstrous ogre. 

Her skin was delicately white and soft, her eyes 
were of violet blue, shaded with long, dark lashes, 
while her hair fell like dusky gold under the thick 
white veil thrown back from the low, broad forehead, 
which was purely*, classic in its contour, uniting with 
the nose in the perfect Greek line that continued to 
the tenderly curved upper lip and short, oval chin. 

Her head was slightly bent above an open book that 


142 


THE 8TATUE OF AURORA. 


lay in her lap, and her slender rosy lingers turned 
from time to time the pages which she was reading 
aloud to her companion, who listened with the closest 
attention, devouring her face all the time with his 
melancholy eyes that still had the same wistful, appeal- 
ing expression of one whose heart longs for tenderness 
and affection. There was something touching in the 
almost humble devotion and attention with, which he 
listened to the words of the gentle reader. 

Her dress of dark cloth and of the most simple de- 
sign, fell in graceful folds from her shoulders to her 
feet, faintly outlining her slender young figure ; a 
white scarf folded modestly over her shoulders formed 
a veil for her head, from which escaped the yellow 
fringes of her hair, touching with light and color her 
sombre attire, and producing the same effect that the 
old painters loved when they embroidered with golden 
threads the purple robes of their saints. 

Close in the shadow of the Fauna, Yaldimer Hordis- 
koff caressed the face of the young girl with his ardent 
gaze, his admiration beaming in his eyes, which studied 
every outline and tint with the passionate appreciation 
of the artist and the lover. And the silence was only 
broken by the clear evening song of the birds and the 
low sweet voice of the girl as she read the romance 
of another life, little dreaming how near she was to 
the first page of her own. 


( 


THE STATUE OF AURORA. 


143 


At length the hunchback, starting from his listening 
attitude and gently closing the book with one hand, 
while he drew the scarf closely around her with the 
other, said, in a voice as tender as a mother’s, “ Lisa, 
my child, the sun is setting, the dews are falling, and 
the white vapor will soon hover over us wdth its poison- 
ous breath. It is not healthy here at this hour. Let 
us go before the sun sets.” 

“ Oh ! papa, must we go so soon ? I like this hour 
so much.” 

Why should you like this hour ? At your age one 
likes midday and sunshine better than twilight and 
sliadows.” 

But I do not like this hour always. When the sun 
is high, I like to go into the gardens and see all the 
gay people in their carriages, dressed so beautifully, 
and looking so happy.” 

“ Their dress is but vanity, my child, and their looks 
are deceitful ; under their light manners and gay 
smiles they carry aching hearts.” 

' Oh ! papa, why do you think so when they do not 
; show that their hearts ache ? ” 

i “ Because, Lisa, it is not allowed to show one’s real 
feelings in the fashionable world.” 

‘‘ But I like a glimpse of that world, nevertheless. 
It is beautiful on the outside, and it pleases me ; then 
I why, dear papa, do you never allow me to remain a 


144 


THE 8TATUE OF AUBORA. 


little while where the crowd are laughing, singing, and 
dancing ? ” 

“ Because I like it not.” 

“ But I like it, dear,” continued Lisa, with sweet 
persistency, while she caressed the long, thin hand that 
lay in hers. 

“ I am sorry for it, for you have nothing to do with 
such a world, and it should have no attractions for you.” 

“ But I cannot help it — my heart is light, I am 
young and happ}’, and Signora Pia says it is no harm 
to dance and sing when one is young and happy.” 

“ Signora Pia should not tell you such things,” re- 
turned Hugo, with a jealous glance and rising color ; 
“ she should teach you that life is too short and too 
serious for such folly.” 

“ Oh ! papa, pray do not blame Signora Pia ; she is 
good, and teaches me everything good ; but do not be 
displeased, I will not be happy if you do not wdsh it.” 

“ Hush, my darling, for God’s sake ; you hurt me 
with such words. I wish you to be happy, sincerely 
and truly happy, but not after the fashion of the false, 
wicked world.” 

“ But a little pleasure with young companions, a 
little music and dancing and mirth, is not the false, 
wicked world, papa.” 

“ Do you wish mirth and dancing and young com- 
l^anions, my child ? ” asked Hugo, sadly. 


THE STATUE OF AURORA. 


145 


“ Sometimes I do,” returned Lisa, dropping her eyes 
and sighing lightly. 

A spasm of pain passed over the hunchback’s pale 
face, and his eyes filled with tears, as he said, with 
infinite tenderness, My Lisa, you had no such long- 
ings when we were in the little cottage on San Mini- 
ato.” 

“ Ko, papa.” 

“ You were contented then with your poor father, 
your humble home, l^ana and the littlo garden.” 

“ Yes, I loved it all dearly, and I was always happy 
then.” 

“ And you are not now ? ” 

“ I did not say that. I am always happy with you, 
darling,” said Lisa, pressing her face against his 
shoulder ; “ but then I had not seen this beautiful city, 
the gardens, the streets, and all the gay, bright things.” 

“ And they have made you discontented with your 
humble lot, your quiet life, your books and the dull 
society of Signora Pia, and your poor father?” 

No, no, dear papa, I am not discontented, and I 
love my books and you better than ever. Am I not 
loath to leave this sweet story and this quiet place for 
the gay crowd that linger yonder ? ” 

“ But we must go, my darling, the air is poison in 
spite of the beauty of the hour. I too love to linger 
here and listen. Tommaso Gross! is sweet to my ear, 
7 


146 


THE STATUE OF AURORA. 


and jonr voice is music itself, but we must leave Fol- 
clietto di Provenza until some other time.” 

Peluctantly the young girl closed her book, for the 
sad romance of the 

‘ ‘ giovan paggio 

Di Raimondo di Tolosa ” 

had touched her heart to the very core with a nameless 
yearning, with pity and sorrow for the sad fate of one 
so young and brave. 

Keluctantly she took the arm of her father, but 
before she drew the thick veil over her face she caught 
a glimpse of a brown curly head and a pair of lumi- 
nous eyes, and a form as straight and handsome as 
tliat of the Apollo in her father’s studio. 

For a moment her heart bounded timidly, for she 
thought it might be a vision of tlie young Folchetto, 
evoked from her admiration of his beauty and her sym- 
pathy for his sad fate ; but when he smiled on her with 
a warm, bright smile, and withdrew quickly again 
behind the statue, she knew he was a mortal man and 
no imaginary hero of romance. 

With the natural of a woman, she understood 

that he did not wish to be seen ; so she said nothing to 
her father, but with a sigh and a backward glance, she 
went away in the twilight among the shadowy trees like 
a fair young saint leading an evil spirit to heaven, fol- 
lowed by the worshipping eyes of Yaldimer Nordiskoff. 


THE HOME IN THE VIA SAN GALLO. 147 


CHAPTER X. 



THE HOME IN THE VIA SAN GALLO. 

HE humble cottage under the cypress trees on 
San Miniato was deserted. The pale face and 
bent figure of the hunchback was seen no more 
in the little garden, working in the shade of his trellis, 
where the vines grew so luxuriantly, nor at twilight in 
the seat under the cypress, with the fair-haired girl 
bending over a book on his knee. Xana browsed no 
more in peaceful content among the rocks or on the 
garden border, where Lisa so often had decked her 
with flowers and romped and laughed with her in 
childish glee ; for her poor old bones lay quietly at the 
foot of the gnarled olive, where her sweet mistress, with 
many tears, had seen her buried, a few days before she 
left the beloved spot forever. 

The docile animal had died of old age, and when 
one morning, coming no more at Hugo’s call, they 
searched for her and found her cold and stiff under 
the olive where she had rested her feeble limbs for 
many a day, they buried her there, and Lisa mourned 
for her as though she had been human, and even the 
hunchback wiped away a secret tear and said to him- 


148 THE HOME IN THE VIA SAN GALLO, 

self sadly, It is the beginning of change, and things 
will never be the same again.” 

His words were prophetic. . It was the beginning of 
change, for he had already decided that he must leave 
the retirement of the cottage, which, on account of his 
increasing reputation and Lisa’s young womanhood, 
was altogether too small for their needs. 

His work found such a readj^ sale, and his orders 
being more important, required greater space and bet- 
ter light than his little studio on the hill afforded him. 
Beside, he could no longer remain unknown and hid- 
den from the world in his seclusion, for his genius, 
as well as the beauty of his model, the Lily of San 
Miniato, as she was called, had attracted the attention 
of the world to his modest retreat, and he now felt 
that he could be more secluded in the great city than 
in the spot where he had passed his early days of ob- 
scurity and poverty. 

After some search for a suitable place, both by him- 
self and Signora Pia, wlio had remained an inmate of 
his home ever since the night he had found her weep- 
ing under the trees near San Salvador, he at length 
fixed upon a roomy and commodious apartment in the 
Yia San Gallo, that had formerly been occupied by 
an artist, and whose chief attraction was a vast and 
well-lighted studio. 

To this place Hugo moved his humble hoaseliold. 


TEE HOME IN THE VIA SAN QALLO. 149 

not without some regret and misgiving ; for the cottage 
on San Miiiiato had become very dear to him ; there 
he had passed the only happy, peaceful days he had 
known since his early childhood ; there he had lived 
in uninterrupted seclusion with his Lisa during the 
time of her infancy, enjoying her sweet babyhood un- 
disturbed, and her first love undivided, for no one had 
come between them. As much as he liked and re- 
spected Signora Pia, and as faithful and efficient as he 
had found her, he was at times jealous of the young 
girl’s affection for her, and even of the time they 
passed together, and never did he see Lisa lean upon 
the woman’s shoulder, twine her arm around her neck, 
or lay her golden head upon the kind, motherly bosom, 
that he did not feel a sharp pang, a pain, as though 
some one had stabbed him to the heart. 

lie tried to overcome this unreasonable feeling, for 
he well knew that he could not monopolize the affection 
of her ardent, loving heart, that he could not control 
her desires and aspirations, her romantic fancies, her 
vague longings after another and brighter life. 

“ Some time,” he thought, with unutterable sorrow. 
She may see another whom she will love better than 
the poor deformed creature, who, after all, has no natu- 
ral claim upon her heart.” 

Again, at times, he was seized with fear that in some 
w^ay she might discover that she was not his child, and 


i50 TEE HOME IN THE VIA SAN GALLO. 


if she should, what guarantee had. he that she would 
not hate and despise him for the deception he had 
practised upon her. 

“ She must never know. I must guard my secret 
with double vigilance now. Oh ! if she had been but 
the least like me in color or feature, if she had been 
dark instead of this fair, delicate beauty, this lily-like 
grace. I cannot kee23 her concealed from all eyes, for 
that in itself would cause suspicion, and when stran- 
gers see her, as they must some time, will they not make 
invidious comparisons between us? Will they not say, 

‘ How came that hideous creature by such an exqui- 
sitely lovely daughter ? ’ And then they may suspect 
and investigate, and perhaps discover, for God may 
help them to punish the guilty. And they will say* 
that I am doubly criminal because I stole her for gain, 
that I have traded on her charms, that I have copied 
her matchless beauty and turned it into vile gold. O 
Holy Mother, thou knowest my heart, and thou know- 
est how I love her, and how unselfish that love is, that 
I have been tender and good to her, that I have taught 
her only what is noble and pure, that I have toiled 
faithfully and that 1 live only for her.” 

At such moments, when the poor hunchback imag- 
ined the possibility of his secret being discovered, he 
would suffer terrible agony. If it happened that at 
night the thoughf came to him, he would arise from his 


THE HOME IN THE VIA SAN OALLO. 151 


bed and pace the floor of his room, trembling with a 
nameless dread, a sort of superstitious fear that, by 
some means brought about by a mysterious Providence, 
his sin would be discovered and that he would lose 
the treasure of his life, and not only herself, but her 
love and respect. 

Lisa was his world, beyond her he saw nothing, her 
praise was sweeter to his ear than the united voice of 
all creation. Her flattery, her pretty compliments, and 
evident satisfaction in his success, made him the hap- 
piest of mortals, for all he had that she could be proud 
of was his genius. Often he wondered if his mis- 
shapen bodj^ looked as hideous to her as it did to 
others, or whether, always having seen him, she had be- 
come so accustomed to him that she did not notice the 
great difference between him and the rest of mankind. 

If the girl did notice and feel the misfortune of his 
deformity, she never showed it by word or sign, and 
if she had been really his child, she could not have 
felt a deeper devotion, a more genuine love than she 
did for the patient, gentle being who lavished such 
constant care and affection upon her. Perhaps there 
was something in her tender, noble nature that re- 
sponded to his needy, suffering soul more readily be- 
cause he was afflicted and despised by others. What- 
ever the bond was between them, the girl certainly 
loved the hunchback with all a daughter’s reverent 


152 THE HOME m the VIA 8AH GALLO. 

fondness, never seeming to notice his ungainly person, 
or showing the slightest repulsion to a form that others 
looked upon as altogether unlovely. 

“ He is so good, and has such a* beautiful heart, and 
such wonderful genius, that all the world ought to 
admire him,” she would, say proudly to Signora Pia, 
who always agreed with her and encouraged her in her 
devotion to her father. 

One day the two sat together in Hugo’s studio — 
Lisa on a low stool at the feet of a life-size cast of 
Apollo, busy w’ith some embroidery, while Signora 
Pia plied her needle industriously, fashioning a simple 
garment for the girl, who did not like plain, uninterest- 
ing work, but something dainty and pretty, that amused 
as well as occupied her. 

‘‘ I wish I liked to do useful things,” she said in re- 
ply to a remark from Signora Pia, but I do not ; it is 
my nature, and I cannot change it.” 

“ Perhaps it does not matter while there is no need 
for it, but if you were obliged to, I think you would be 
equal to the emergency.” 

“ I know not; 1 like only what is pleasant and beauti- 
ful,” replied the girl with a sigh. 

“ Ah, my dear child, that is wrong, for in this world 
we cannot have only what is pleasant and beautiful.” 

“ I know that well. Signora, for if we could I should 
not be sitting here in this gloomy room, when 1 should 


THE HOME IN THE VIA SAN GALLO. 153 

like to be out in the sunshine, among the trees and 
flowers.” 

But you cannot go to the gardens every day, my 
dear ; you are unreasonable ; why, only yesterday your 
papa took you to the Torrigiani, and you remained 
there until the sun went down. Kow you should be 
contented to stay quietly at home to-day.” 

“ But that is just the reason 1 am not contented 
tO'day. I am thinking all the time of how delight- 
ful it was then, and how dull it is now. It always 
seems more gloomy here after I have been to the gar- 
dens.” 

“ That would not please your father should he hear 
you ; nay, it would pain him deeply, for he wishes you 
to be happy in his society, and in the home that he 
labors so hard to make for you.” 

Yes, it would make papa unhappy I know, for he 
never likes to take me out. I see that he is always re- 
luctant to go, and why should he be ? Other parents 
are not so.” 

My child, you should not complain of your father ; 
he knows what is best for you.” 

“ I do not complain, only I should be happier if I 
were not always shut up,” returned the young girl with 
a sigh. 

“ Now, my dear, you ai-e in a bad humor this morn- 
ing, and you should say fifty aves, and then you will be 
7 * 


154 THE HOME IN. THE VIA SAN GALLO. 


happier when your papa returns. I beg that you will 
not let him see the least shadow on your face.’’ 

“ Ah ! Signora, you are always good,” cried Lisa, 
rising impulsively and putting her arms around the 
woman’s neck, ‘‘ and I am a wicked, ungrateful girl, 
but I will not let papa know of my discontent and 
complaining.” 

Now you are your sweet self, and you shall go to 
Yespers with me by and by, and ask the Holy Mother 
to strengthen your good resolution.” 

At that moment the door opened and Hugo entered 
with an unusually quick step, and a cheerful smile on 
his thin face. Going straight to Lisa he bent over her 
and kissed her forehead, saying, in tones of suppressed 
happiness and gratification, “ I have pleasant news for 
you, cara mia. My statue of Aurora has taken the 
prize.” 

“ Oh ! papa, is it true ? I am so glad,” cried the girl, 
throwing her arms around her father’s neck and kiss- 
ing him fondly on both sallow cheeks. “ Why, I am so 
proud, so happy,” and then, overcome by her joy, she 
burst into tears. 

“ Ah ! now do not weep, my Lisa, or I shall regret 
my success, for I would not bring a tear to your sweet 
eyes for the honor of all the world,” said the hunch- 
back, tenderly stroking the girl’s lovely hair. 

“But they are tears of joy, papa; and see, they are 


THE HOME IN THE VIA SAN OALLO. 155 


gone already,” returned Lisa, holding up her face that 
looked as bright and fresh as a rose washed by a 
summer shower. 

“ Now, my child, you see how good our Blessed 
Mother is to us,” whispered Signora Pia. “ But a 
moment ago you were complaining because you had 
no more pleasure, and see how soon happiness came 
when once you resigned yourself to the will of God, 
and promised to be contented with your lot.” 

“ It is a great honor to receive the medal, certainly,” 
said Hugo, after a moment’s thought, ‘‘ but I wish I 
might sell the statue at once to some of these great 
nobles who have awarded me the prize.” 

You will, papa; I am sure you will sell it for a 
great deal of money ; you know everything you do is 
sold at once,” cried Lisa hopefully. 

I was told that a rich Florentine noble, the Duke 
of Castellara, has asked what price I have put upon it, 
and has spoken highly of its merits, and a Eussian 
noble also has noticed it favorably.” 

You are fortunate. Signore, to receive praise from 
such great men,” said the Signora Pia. “ The Duke 
of Castellara is one high in power, and richer than any 
other noble in Florence, and as generous as he is rich ; 
let us pray that he may purchase the Aurora.” 

While Signora Pia was yet speaking there came a 
ring at the door, and it was so unusual an occurrence 


156 THE HOME IN THE VIA SAN GALLO. 


that Lisa started up, flushed with delight, for she 
fancied one of the rich nobles that they had been 
speaking of had certainly appeared to offer her father 
a fabulous price for the statue of Aurora ; but Hugo, 
instead of showing any satisfaction, looked around anx- 
iously, much like a startled animal that would conceal 
itself, and said, “Who has come to disturb us, I 
wonder? ’’ 

“ I dare say it is only one of the mendicante^'^ said 
Signora Pia, going to the door. 

In a moment she returned, smiling and excited. 
“ It is a Signore, who wishes to see you on a matter of 
importance.” 

“ Who dares intrude upon my privacy in this way ? ” 
cried lingo in sudden wrath. “ Say to him, whoever 
he is, that I have no business with him, and that I will 
not see him.” 

“ Why, papa, it may be some one to buy your statue ; 
do not send him away without a hearing,” said Lisa 
soothingly, greatly surprised at her father’s singular 
manner. 

“ He seems an honest man,” ventured Signora Pia, 
quite alarmed at the hunchback’s pallor and agitation. 

“ Ask him his name and business,” at length said 
Hugo, evidently trying to master his annoyance. 

When Signora Pia returned, she smiled triumphant- 
ly, and laid a soiled card before the hunchback, saying, 


THE HOME IN THE VIA SAN GALLO. 157 


‘‘ lie IS no impertinent intruder, as you will see, and 
he has come to speak about the statue.” 

“ Signor Berto — who is Signor Berto ? ” said Hugo, 
reading the name aloud, “Ah! I remember; he is 
the copyist in the Galleria. lYell, I will see him this 
time ; but remember, for the 'future, that I do not re- 
ceive visitors. Tell him to enter. Signora Pi a, and you, 
Lisa, go to your own room.” \ 

The young girl went out rather unwillingly, ’s^Ie the 
hunchback waited in sullen silence to receive his visitor. 

When Master Berto entered and Signora Pia closed 
the door upon him, Hugo came forward with the most 
forbidding air, and curtly inquired his business. 

The poor little copyist, now that he had succeeded in 
gaining admittance to the eccentric sculptor, was as 
timid and frightened as he had been hopeful and bold 
before he entered, and the sullen manner of the strange 
man did not tend to reassure him in the least, so it 
was with trembling and much hesitation that he finally 
made known his errand. 

“ Pardon me. Signore, for intruding upon you ; but I 
trust my errand will excuse my seeming rudeness.” 

“ I never receive any one in my house,” interrupted 
Hugo, with more frankness than politeness. 

“ So I have understood, Signore, but pray listen, and 
you will see that my visit is not of any interest to me, 
but rather a favor to yourself.” 


158 THE HOME IN THE VIA SAN GALLO. 

“ I will judge of that when I know your object in 
coming,” returned Hugo, coldly and proudly. 

“Yesterday, at the Academia, I heard a Eussian 
noble asking who you were and where you could be 
found, as he wished to give you a commission for a 
statue.” 

Hugo’s severe face relaxed a little, and he seemed to 
listen with interest, as Berto went on. 

“ As no one present seemed able to give him the in- 
formation he desired, I came forward and told him 
what little I knew of you. Of course. Signore, I 
praised your work greatly, and said all that I could in 
your favor.” 

“ Thank you. I am deeply obliged to you,” replied 
Hugo, looking at him anxiously, for he was in a hurry 
to have him end his communication. 

“ The noble then requested me to arrange a time and 
place of meeting; therefore I took the liberty of 
coming to ask you what hour you would wish him to 
call upon you.” 

“ I do not wish him to call upon me at all,” said 
Hugo, excitedly ; “ I just now told you I did not re- 
ceive visitors.” 

“ But surely. Signore, when it is so much to your ad- 
vantage, you will not refuse? ” said Berto, timidly. 

‘‘lam the best judge of that, and I will not allow 
strangers to intrude upon the privacy of my home.” 


THE HOME IN THE VIA SAN OALLO, 159 

“ Then where may I tell him that you will meet 
him?” 

“ Is it absolutely necessary that I should meet this 
man ? I dislike much to meet strangers ; my infirmity 
and my ill-health make it painful,” said Hugo, as if 
to apologize for his seeming rudeness. 

“ I understand. Signore, but he is decided to have 
an interview with yon ; there are certain conditions 
that he wishes to make with you personally.” 

“ Very well, you can say to him that I will meet him 
to-morrow at two o’clock, in the north room of the 
Acfidemiar 

‘‘ Thank you. Signore. I am obliged to you for your 
kindness,” and the little copyist hastened to the 
door, thankful that the disagreeable interview was 
over. 

“ If I have seemed inhospitable and rude, I beg that 
you will pardon me,” said Hugo, with more gentleness 
than he had shown during the interview ; “ but I am 
not like other men ; to be polite, I cannot be untruth- 
ful, therefore my lips say what my heart dictates ; and 
believe me, though my manners are ungracious, I am 
none the less thankful to you for your interest and 
trouble in this matter.” 

<‘It has been no trouble. Signore, I am happy to 
serve you.” 

And Berto went away with the impression that, after 


ICO THE HOME m THE VIA SAN GALLO. 

all, the hunchback was not as disagreeable as he had 
thought him at first. 

“Here he comes, Signore; now is our chance to 
speak to him. You stand aside a little, please, and 
I will speak to him first, for, although he expects to 
meet you, he is as shy as a wild beast, and might run 
off, after all, without waiting for the interview ; then 
our only sure opportunity of meeting him would be 
lost, and I had so much trouble to get admitted to his 
house, and more to get him to promise to meet you ; 
he is a most singular character, as you will see for 
yourself.” 

Count Yaldimer Hordiskoff and Berto stood in the 
north room of the Academia waiting for Hugo, who 
approached them slowly, coming out of the shadow of 
an inner room into the broad light that streamed on 
him from a lofty window. 

He was very pale, and his eyes were cast down as 
though they were weighted with unshed tears, while his 
thin hands were clenched together tightly, for he was 
trying to control his natural timidity and dislike to 
meeting strangers. 

The unfortunate man started like a frightened deer, 
as Berto approached him, and looked around as though 
he would rather retreat than advance ; however, control- 
ling his feelings, after a moment, with a wan smile, he 


TEE HOME IN THE VIA SAN GALLO. 161 


held out his hand and said, You see I am here, Sig- 
nor Berto, according to agreement.’’ 

“ I am glad you have not faded to come, for I have 
good news for you,” said Berto in a low tone and 
glancing at Yal dimer, who stood a little aside. ‘‘ I have 
been talking again with this Russian noble, wdiile we 
waited your coming. I am told he is as rich as a gold 
mine, and he will give you a commission, I am sure, 
for he tells me lie admires your Aurora beyond any- 
thing modern.” 

At that moment Count Yaldimer came forward, and 
Berto, with a satisfied smile, presented the sculptor to 
him. 

The Count held out his hand frankly and said pleas- 
antly, “ I am happy to meet one whose genius I so 
much admire.” 

Again Hugo looked around as though he would like 
to escape, if he could, and much to Berto’s surprise re- 
fused to take the hand the noble had so kindly offered 
him, standing silent with downcast eyes and dull, im- 
passive face. 

Count Yaldimer did not seem to notice his singular 
manner, but went on in his easy way : I suppose Sig- 
nor Berto has told you that I should like to give you 
a commission for a statue ? ” 

“ Yes, Signor Count.” 

“ And you will accept it, will you not ? ” 


162 THE HOME IN THE VIA SAN GALLO. 


I will, Signore. ” 

“ And you will work from the same model as that of 
the Aurora ? ” 

Certainly, Signore, if you wish it ; but what does 
it matter who my model is so that my work pleases 
you? It will depend upon the subject you choose, 
whether I can use the same model or not,” said Hugo, 
with a strange, inquiring look at the Count. 

‘‘ You may select your own subject. Let it be 
Hebe, if that suits you. I care not what name you 
give it, so that the face is the same as the face of the 
Aurora.” 

An ominous flush passed over the sallow features of 
the hunchback, and he clenched his hands, looking 
around restlessly, but said nothing. 

Count Yaldimer went on, “If you will agree to this 
I will pay you, on the day it is finished, ten thousand 
SGudiP 

Hugo started and muttered : “ Ten thousand scudi ? ” 

“ Otherwise,” continued tlie Count, “ I shall not give 
you the commission.” 

“ I will do as you wish. Signore.” 

“ And I wish to see the work from time to time dur- 
ing its progress.” 

A dark, stubborn expression settled around Hugo’s 
mouth, while he closed his lips firmly and made no re- 


THE HOME IE THE VIA SAN QALLO. 163 

Count Yaldiiner waited a moment, and then asked, a 
little impatiently, “Do yon agree to this ? ” 

“ 1^0, Signore Count ; I admit no one to my studio 
during the progress of my work.” 

“ Y ery well, then, I withdraw my offer ; but ten thou- 
sand SGudi ought not to be thrown away on a caprice.” 

“ It is not a caprice. Signore ; it is a principle. I 
prefer not to admit the outside world into the privacy 
of my home.” 

“ I do not wish to intrude into the privacy of your 
home, I only ask to visit your studio.” 

“ My studio is my home, but, as you have said, ten 
thousand scudi is not to be thrown away, therefore you 
may come.” 

“ When will you begin your work ? ” 

“ To-morrow.” 

“ And when may I make my first visit ? ” 

“ In a month,” and without another word Hugo 
turned his back on the Count and walked away, clench- 
ing his hands and frowning sullenly. 

“ An amiable, grateful fellow,” said Count Yaldimer 
to Berto, who stood speechless, watching the retreating 
figure of the hunchback. “ Upon my word, his inso- 
lence was almost unbearable.” 

“ I told you he was a singular being,” replied Berto 
apologetically. “But he is a great genius and one 
must put up with his eccentricities because of that.” 


164 : 


LISA^S ROMANCE. 


“ And he has a lovely daughter,” returned the Count, 
“ which I care much more for than I do for the old 
monster’s talents. I am much obliged to you, Signor 
Berto, for your success in bringing about this meeting, 
and if I am as fortunate with the daughter as you have 
been with the father, I shall be still more indebted to 
you. So good day, and many thanks,” and Count Yal- 
dimer walked away, well satisfied with his morning 
work. 


CHAPTER XI. 
lisa’s romance. 

ISA was alone in her father’s studio on the 
day of his meeting with the Count Yal dimer 
Xordiskofi in the north room of the Academia, 
Signora Pia had gone to market, and there was no one 
in the great silent apartment but herself. 

The studio was a large, dreary room, lighted by one 
high window, through which was visible a patch of blue 
sky, a lofty tower, and a line of distant hill ; casts from 
the antique, looking grim and ghostly with their sight- 
less eyes, stood in the shadowy corners, and bits of 
drapery fiuttered in the soft air that entered through 
the open window. Old carved furniture, chairs, tables, 



LISA^S JROMAI^GB. 


165 


and a great black chest, that looked like a sarcophagus, 
stood here and there without any regard to careful ar- 
rangement, and in that sort of careless confusion that 
artists love so well. Everything about the place was 
ancient and austere ; no bright color, no dainty trifles 
such as please a young girl, gladdened the eyes of the 
hunchback’s daughter, who sat in her favorite seat at 
the base of the statue of Apollo, holding a book, which 
she was not reading, in one Hand, while the other sup- 
ported her fair cheek. 

She wore no veil nor scarf now, and all the wealth 
of her hair fell unconflned over her graceful shoulders, 
W'hich were visible through the thin drapery that 
covered without concealing them. 

As she sat there in languid repose, with eyes full of 
pensive sweetness, it w^as evident that her thoughts 
were of a pleasant nature, and that she was dreaming 
a young girl’s first sweet dream of love. The book 
she held in her hand was the work of Tommaso Grossi, 
and it was open again at the story of Folchetto di Pro- 
venza. She had been reading over the sad romance of 
the beautiful yonng page, and thinking, as she had al- 
most every hour since the day she had read it to her 
father in the garden, of the handsome stranger who 
had smiled on her from behind the statue of Fauna. 

Should she ever see him again ? Why was he there, 
and why did he smile on her with a look that went 


166 


LISA'S EOMAJVGB. 


straight to her heart ? Curious and anxious to discover 
the secret of her first adventure, she had the day before 
entreated her father to take her to the garden again ; 
but her evident desire had excited the hunchback’s 
suspicions, and he had refused her, for the first time, 
with sullen decision. 

She was a prisoner in her father’s house, watched 
over by his jealous eyes; denied all young companion- 
ship, and all the pleasure of the bright gay world, she 
had never tasted any of the joys of youth, but had lived 
always in retirement — her only society her sad, strange 
father, and the sei-ious Signora Pi a, who was growing 
more grave and pious as she grew old ; and who lec- 
tured her somewhat severely if she laughed in the 
freedom of her young heart, or sang a snatch of a gay 
song, such as she occasionally heard from the street 
below her window. 

Sometimes she longed to look into the street, but the 
windows of her little room were so high that she could 
only see the clouds sailing by, or the distant tree tops 
beyond the Arno, and if she grew weary of looking at 
the sky and the distant hills, and went for a change on 
the little balcony that opened into the court, she saw 
but a moss-grown fountain, its basin full of vegetables 
or soiled clothes, and tired, draggled women washing, 
or nursing their cross, hungry babies. The only bit of 
green, the only pleasant thing there, was a stunted fig- 


LISA'S ROMAUGE. 


167 


tree in one corner, where a bird had built its nest, and 
now, chirping and fluttering about, it fed its young in 
happy ignorance of the great bright world beyond those 
four dingy walls. 

At times she longed again for the little garden and 
vineyard on San Miniato, the seat under the cypress 
trees, the old convent garden, which was now turned 
into a cemetery, and the distant view of the hills, with 
the lovely city below. 

Now the only change or pleasure she ever enjoyed 
was on these rare occasions when, closely veiled like a 
nun, she went out into the bright noisy street with Sig- 
nora Pia to a neighboring church, or with her father 
to some of the gardens, where, from a secluded spot, she 
could see the trees and flowers and listen to the sing- 
ing of the birds. 

Such hours were like glimpses of Paradise to her, 
she was so happy there ; and why could she not go 
often ? Why was it that her father, who loved her so 
tenderly, who was so patient and gentle to her, who 
taught her all she knew, who clothed and fed her so 
daintily, could deny her this simple pleasure that her 
heart craved so strongly — freedom and the society of 
human beings like herself, young and beautiful and 
happy ? 

She had lived all her life in the company of cold, 
dumb marble and clay, and had seen little that was 


168 


LISA^S ROMANCE. 


beautiful save herself, and she was not aware how 
lovely she was, but unconsciously admired her own 
charms in the productions of her father’s genius. 

That day in the garden, for the first time in her life, 
she had been attracted to a handsome living face, and 
it haunted her incessantly. She saw it before her, 
waking or sleeping, alone or with others ; it was alwa^^s 
before her, and she could not banish it. 

To-day was ^festa., and she had hoped, with a trem- 
bling hope, that her father might grant her the pleas- 
ure she so ardently desired, though she did not dare ex- 
press it, and take her again to the garden where she 
might see that hairdsome face looking at her from be- 
hind the statue of Fauna. So she waited anxiously 
for the hunchback’s return, while the slow hours 
seemed to drag pitifully, for he lingered longer than 
usual on this day when she was most impatient for his 
coming. 

At length she heard his step, and her lovely, wistful 
eyes sought his face anxiously as he entered, for she 
saw that something uncommon had happened, and that 
he was strangely excited. 

“ What is it, dear papa ? ” she asked eagerly, rising 
and taking his hands tenderly ’in hers, and holding up 
her face for his accustomed kiss. 

But instead of the gentle caress she had always re- 
ceived, he clasped her in his arms passionately, and, 


LfSA'S BOMAIf'GE. 


169 


sinking on the bench where she had been sitting, he 
held her to his heart, sobbing and weeping in a sort of 
delirious joy. 

Lisa was alarmed, and disengaging herself from his 
embrace, she cried : “ Tell me, pray tell me what has 
happened ? You weep, and yet you seem more joyful 
than sorrowful.” 

“ God be thanked ! ” at last said Hugo, making a 
supreme effort to control his emotion. “ 1 am over- 
come with happiness, and I scarce know what I say ; 
but God be thanked that now my desire is realized. 
My fortune has come, and we are rich.” 

Eich, papa ? Wliat can you mean ? ” 

; “ I mean that we are rich, Lisa. That at last wealth 

j crowns my labor, and yon, my love, my treasure, shall 
j have it all. It is for you, to make you happy. We 
i will go away from here, away from this great noisy 
city, and find a home in a forest among the hills 
where no one will come to disturb us, and where the 
fiowers will always bloom and the birds will always 
sing.” 

“ Tell me, darling, for I do not understand you. 
What fortune has come to you ? ” and she looked into 
her father’s eyes with eager questioning, while she 
stroked his dark cheek tenderly. 

“ It is ten thousand scudi. Think of it — ten thou- 
sand scudi!^^ 

8 


170 


LISA'S EOMAlfbE. 


‘‘ Madve di Dio ! ten thousand scudi^^ echoed the 
girl, half alarmed at her father’s strange excitement, 
and fearing that he was no longer in his right mind. 
“ Is it yours ? Have you all that money ? ” 

“ I am to have it, my angel.” 

“ How, in what way, papa ? ” cried Lisa, more and 
more bewildered. 

“I have but just now come from the Academia^ 
whither I went to meet a rich Russian noble, and he 
has engaged me to make a statue of Hebe for him, 
for which he is to pay me ten thousand sGiidi, Do 
you understand, my child, that that is a fortune to 
us ? ” 

“Yes,” she gasped breathlessly. “Yes, I under- 
stand that it is a great sum of money, and that it will 
make you rich and famous.” 

“ And you happy, my Lisa, in our home in the 
forest.” 

“ But why leave Florence ? ” she said eagerly. 
“Why seek a home away from our lovely Arno ? We 
can find happiness here surely,” and she sighed as she 
thought of the handsome face she had seen in the 
Torrigiani garden. 

Her father did not reply to her question ; but hold- 
ing her away from him he gazed at her long and 
searchingly. He was calm now and there were no 
traces of sobs or tears. His sudden emotion had 


LISA'S ROMANCE. 


171 


vanished and a sullen expression had settled over his 
dark features. 

At length he said, coldly : Have you not always 
wished for the flowers, and trees, and birds ? ” 

‘‘ Yes, papa. I love nature, and everything beautiful 
and bright.” 

“ And have you not always entreated me to take 
you away from these gloomy rooms into the open air 
and sunshine ? ” 

“ Yes,” she replied again, with a little hesitation ; 
“ but we need not leave Florence to find these, they 
are in all the gardens.” 

The hunchback sighed heavily, as he drew her face 
down to his shoulder with motherly tenderness, and as 
he stroked the yellow threads of her hair he said, in a 
voice of mingled sorrow and pity : 

My heart aches for you, my child, because I cannot 
make you happy as you wish. It is not trees, and 
birds, and flowers, and all beautiful things in nature 
that your hungry heart longs for, it is the world with 
its pomp and vanity, its falsehoods and cruelty, its 
hollow joys, its certain sorrow, its human beings, 
young, happy, and beautiful, that my Lisa desires and 
loves ; and her unfortunate father loves them not.” 

“ Oh ! papa, why should you not love what Grod has 
created ? ” 

“ My child, once I adored my fellow-creatures. I 


172 


LIJSA^S ROMANCE. 


worshipped their comeliness. I longed for their sym- 
pathy and affection ; but, in I’etnrn, the^^gave me scorn 
for my adoration, and loathing for my love ; they thrust ; 
me out from everything good ; they turned my gentle 
nature into gall ; they taught me that those whom God 
afflicts humanity does not pity, and now I hate all man- 
kind and regard them all as my enemies ; therefore, I 
would hide my only treasure away in the heart of a 
forest, where none can find her, or rob me of her.’’ 

“ No one can rob you of me, dear papa. Why do 
you speak of that always I Why do you fear it ? Am 
I not your child, your own Lisa ? Then, who can take 
me from you ? ” 

The hunchback did not reply, but, trembling visibly, 
he started up and began pacing the large room with 
rapid strides. 

Lisa watched him anxiously for some moments, and 
then, going softly to him, she twined her arm in his, 
and raising her sweet face said coaxingly : ‘‘ I have 
vexed you, caro mio. Forgive me, and kiss me, and 
smile on me as you do when you love me.” 

Hugo stooped, and pressed his lips to her forehead 
and cheek with sorrowful fervor, but said nothing. 

Do not be sad on this day of all others,” she con- 
tinued, clinging to his arm, and joining him in his 
walk. It is Q.festa^ and besides it is the day of your ! 
good fortune, and we ought to be very happy.” 


LISA'S ROMANCE. 


173 


“ It is you, my darling, who are not happy, and it 
grieves me because I cannot make you so.” 

“ But you can, caro mio / you can make me the hap- 
piest girl in Florence. Do you remember that you 
promised to take me to the garden on this festa f It 
is now near the hour. Shall we go ? ” 

Her father hesitated a moment, and then, noticing 
her look of eager anxiety, he said reluctantly : “ If 
you wish it so much, I have no heart to deny you. 
But on your thickest veil and we will go.” 

Lisa darted away to her little chamber, as light and 
radiant as a sunbeam, and while she was arraying her- 
self with more than usual care, Hugo recounted his 
good fortune to Signora Pia, who had returned in 
time to hear the welcome news before Yespers, where 
she intended to go and thank God devoutly for his 
mercy and favor to her master. 

When Lisa and her father reached their accustomed 
seat near the granita tree, her first timid glance sought 
the statue of Fauna to see if the handsome face was 
there; but no — much to her disappointment she 
saw only the waving branches and the blue sky be- 
yond, and her heart sank heavily, for suddenly it 
seemed as though the sunlight was less bright, the fiow- 
ers less fair and fragrant, and nature less beautiful 
than she had thought it when she first entered the 
garden. 


174 


LISAS ROMANCE. 


The distant voices of the crowd, and the merry 
laughter of the children sounded harsh and discordant 
on her ear, and she almost wished that she was in the 
silence and retirement of the studio, which she had 
found so wearisome in the morning. 

Her father seemed absorbed in gloomy reflections, 
perhaps it was a premonition of the shadow that would j 
so soon fall upon his life, and the poems of Tommaso ^ 
Grossi were not as sweet as they had been the day be- ' 
fore. It was her flrst great disappointment, and she ) 
could scarce restrain her tears. 'i 

‘‘ After all,” she thought, as the afternoon wore 
away, and the eagerly-longed-for face did not appear 
behind the statue, “ it could not have been a human 
being. 1 must have fancied I saw some one, or it was 
a vision, for the face was too beautiful to be real. Ah I 
me, why did it come to haunt me forever, if I can see 
it no more ? ” 

At last, restless from hope deferred, she arose, and 
leaving her book upon the bench, she took her father’s 
arm and together they strolled into a lonely, unfrequent- 
ed path, each silent and absorbed, each hoping and 
dreading they scarce knew what. As they passed along 
under the overhanging trees, some one stepped out of 
the shadow of a thicket and walked away rapidly with 
his Anger on his lip as if to enjoin silence. Lisa had 
but a glimpse of him, and Hugo saw him not, for if he 


LISA'S HOMAIfCL. 


175 


had he would have instantly recognized Count Yaldimer 
Nordiskoff. 

But the rapid glance, the smile, the motion of his 
head, were all familiar to the girl. It was the hand- 
some face that had haunted her night and day ever 
since she first saw it, and her heart throbbed so tumult- 
uously with joy that she could hardly walk steadily or 
control her voice to reply to a question her father asked 
her at that moment. 

When they returned to their seat the hunchback sank 
down wearily, and covering his face with his hands, as 
was a habit with him, he seemed in deep thought and 
lost to all around him, as though he were revolving 
some important question in his mind, some subject that 
required the deepest deliberation. 

Lisa watched him anxiously, dividing her attention 
pretty equally between the bent figure at her side and 
the battered statue of Fauna ; but her father still re- 
mained silent, and the trees still waved their fantastic 
arms against the blue sky, and no warm, admiring 
glance met her searching gaze, that turned again and 
again hopefully to that spot, where her first romance 
had dawned upon her. 

At length she took up the neglected romance of 
another life, and, turning the pages abstractedly, a fold- 
ed slip of paper attracted her notice. It was between 
the pages where she had been reading, and suddenly 


176 


LISA'S ROMANCE. 


she Vemembered that it was not there when she laid the 
book down. Glancing at her father to see if she was 
observed, she unfolded it with trembling fingers, and 
read : 

“Hove you, and I must see you. To-morrow, at Ave Maria, I 
will be in the Church of San Marco, and I shall look for you in the 
Chapel of the Sacrament.” 

Bewildered and trembling, she thrust the paper into 
the bosom of her dress, and closing the book, she said. 

Come, papa, do you know the sun is nearly down ? ” 

Hugo looked up like one awakening from a dream, 
and, rising, he gave his daughter his arm silently, and 
together they walked away, absorbed in their own 
thoughts. Hugo was trying to find some means of 
evading the agreement he had made with Count Yaldi- 
mer, in regard to his visiting his studio ; some way to 
guard his treasure more closely until he had completed 
the statue, and then lie determined, in spite of his 
daughter’s objection, to find some other home where 
there would be less chance of his secret being dis- 
covered. 

And Lisa, trembling under the burden of her first 
secret, happy and yet fearful, her whole soul thrilling 
with the joy the words had given her, though she only 
half understood their meaning, was already planning 
some way by which she might evade her father’s 


LISA^S ROMANCE, 


177 


watchful eyes, so that she could meet her hero of ro- 
mance, as he had requested, in the Church of San 
Marco at Ave Maria the next day. 

Her first thought on awakening the next morning 
was of the communication she had received, and the 
means to be used to gain permission from her father 
to go without him to Yespers. Occasionally he had 
allowed her to accompany Signora Pia, but not often, 
and she feared to express a wish in that direction, lest 
it might excite his suspicion, which seemed strangely 
alive at this time to any indication of preference on 
her part. 

If Signora Pia would only propose it, it would 
render the matter easy ; but the morning passed away 
without the pious woman making any allusion to the 
church services, and Lisa saw the hour approach with 
terrible anxiety and uncertainty. 

Her father had already begun his new order, and 
the statue of Hebe, though but a shapeless mass of 
clay behind the red curtain where Hugo worked, was 
nevertheless a commencement, and for the time ab- 
sorbed all his attention. 

Lisa sat with her embroidery at the feet ^ Apollo, 
and watched the shadows on the fioor grow longer and 
longer with a trembling, fainting heart, when suddenly 
Signora Pia laid aside her knitting, and taking her 
veil and shawl, she declared her intention of going to 
8 * 


178 


LISA'S ROMANCE. 


Yespers ; as she was leaving the room she turned and 
said ; 

“ Signorina, have you been to church to thank God 
for His goodness to your father % ” 

‘‘Ho, Signora, I have not yet been,” replied Lisa, 
trembling with impatience to hear her next remark. 

“ Then put on your veil and come with me to San 
Marco ; for it is not well to forget God in our pros- 
perity.” 

The girl did not wait for a second bidding; and 
when they entered the gloomy old church, instead of 
following Signora Pia to the high altar where the 
lamps were burning, she slipped into the chapel of the 
Sacrament. It was empty and in deep shadow. Fall- 
ing on her knees and covering her face, she tried to 
pray, but in vain ; her thoughts would not soar above 
earth and earthly desires. While she murmured Ave 
Maria with her trembling lips, she was listening for a 
footstep on the marble pavement, and in a moment it 
came. Without raising her head she was aware that 
some one entered the chapel and knelt before the altar 
by her side. 

Her heart seemed to stand still for an instant ; and 
then suddenly it throbbed so heavily that she felt as 
though she were suffocating. She did not move, and 
the new-comer did not speak ; was he praying silently 
or was he waiting for her to give some signs of life ? 


LISA^S ROMANCE. 


179 


She could endure this uncertainty no longer, lifting 
her head from the railing and softly drawing her veil 
aside, she glanced around timidly, and there she saw 
near her, absorbed in deep devotion, not her hero of 
romance, but Signora Pia, who had followed her and 
was praying devoutly with clasped hands and closed 
eyes. 

Was she to suffer a second disappointment ? If so, 
she felt that she could hardly endure it, but just as she 
was about despairing another person came in softly and 
knelt on her other side. This time there could be no 
mistake, for she felt that it was he without seeing him. 
An electric thrill seemed to run through every fibre of 
her frame, as he murmured in a low tone some words 
that Signora Pia must have thought to be a prayer, 
for she did not seem to notice the intrusion, so absorbed 
■was she in her own devotions. 

For perhaps five minutes they knelt there side by 
side, outwardly as still as statues, then Count Yaldi- 
mer, softly reaching forward, slipped a folded paper 
into Lisa’s trembling fingers, and with a gentle pres- 
sure of her hand rose from his knees and went out as 
quietly as he had entered. 

Signora Pia, her devotions ended, laid her hand on 
the girl’s shoulder who seemed to be absorbed in 
prayer, and said gently : 

“ Come, my child, you have remained here long 


180 


AN EVENING AT THE OPERA. 


©noiigli, and God must be well pleased with your sin- J 
cere piety. It is late and your father will be anxious. I 
Let us go.” 

Silently Lisa rose from her knees, holding the note 
close to her heart, and followed the old woman out 
into the lighted church, where the penitent and sinful 
still lingered and prayed. 



CHAPTEE XII. 

AN EVENING AT THE OPEEA. 

T was the fashionable opera night at La Per- 
gola, and thousands were rushing in to hear 
a jyrima donna in “ La Favorita.” The 
royal box was brilliantly lighted, and hung with crim- 
son satin studded with gold, while a crown of flowers 
depended from the ceiling, and garlands and bouquets 
made it look almost like a rural bower. The Grand 
Duke and his suite, in their brilliant uniforms; sat under 
the odorous coronet, talking and laughing gayly, when, 
the sweet, thrilling voice of thej!?m/ia donna did not 
claim their attention. 

On the right of the royal party was another box, 
scarcely inferior in size and brilliancy of decoration, 


AN EVENING AT THE OPERA. 


181 


and in it sat the Duchess of Castellara, surrounded by 
the most distinguished men in Florence. 

Time had dealt kindly with her, and though she was 
no longer young, she was still considered the most 
lovely woman in Italy, for the fame of her beauty had 
spread beyond her native city, and wherever she went 
she was surrounded by a train of admirers selected 
from the heaux esj)rits of society. 

She had never looked more beautiful than she did 
on this night. Her dress, a pale green satin, set off the 
rare pallor of her skin, which was as white as the petal 
of a lily, save where a delicate flush came and went on 
her softly rounded cheek. Her eyes, under their long, 
dark lashes, seemed to glow and burn like deep flres, 
unextinguished by time or tears, and the rich gold of 
her hair had lost none of its burnished lustre, while a 
tender smile, strangely sweet, and almost happy, trem- 
bled from time to time around her lovely mouth. 

She was listening to some low-spoken words from 
Yaldimer Hordiskoff, who sat behind her chair, his 
handsome head close to hers, and his flne eyes studying 
her face admiringly. 

“ There, that will do,” she said at length, tapping 
him reprovingly with her fan, ‘‘ you have monopolized 
me quite long enough, and Baron Loder is green with 
jealousy.” 

“ Bah ! let the heavy German wait ; he is slow enough 


182 


AN EVENING AT THE OPERA. 


to tarry any length of time for a word or /a look, and 
will go away contented if he is rewarded with a smile 
at the end of the evening.” 

“ Not so ; I wish to talk with him. He is very enter- 
taining and original, and his realistic views of things 
are quite refreshing.” 

Do you wish to banish me to the far corner of your 
box, where I can only bite my lips in vexation and 
envy ? ” 

‘‘Yaldimer,” and she lowered her voice to a more 
confidential tone, “ you well know how pleasant your 
pretty speeches are to me, you know your power, and 
you must not abuse it, if at times you surprise me into 
being truthful. To-night, for some unexplainable rea- 
son, I feel almost happy ; my heart goes out to you with 
a warm, true friendship, and I would rather have 3^ou 
by my side than any other person in the world.” 

She paused and looked at him earnestly, flushing a 
little as though she had said too much, and then 
waited for him to speak, or to answer her with his elo- 
quent eyes. 

But instead of meeting the grateful, happy glance 
that she expected after her heartfelt expression, she 
noticed that he looked away, as if embarrassed, and 
hesitated slightly before he replied : 

“ Thanks, Elena, for your sweet words, which, if you 
are sincere, make me the happiest of mortals.” 


Alf EVJSmifO AT THE OPERA. 


183 


“ Can you doubt my sincerity, Yaldimer ? Am I one 
to speak lightly ? ” 

“ But you have spoken so differently for four years, 
that I have despaired of ever inspiring any warmer 
feeling in your heart than that of ordinary friendship.’’ 

‘‘ And yet you have always been contented with my 
friendship, at least you have professed to be, and you 
have assured me over and over, that you would rather 
possess my esteem than the most ardent love of any 
other woman.” 

“Yes, Duchess, I have repeated those words many 
times, and I meant them ; but pardon me, now, if I 
say that the human heart cannot rest forever satisfied 
with only professions, and platonic affection, which is 
but the cold, pale shadow of love.” 

A light shiver passed over the Duchess, and her voice 
sank so low that it only seemed a murmur to the others 
in the box. “Yaldimer, I do not quite understand 
you. You surely are not weary of waiting.” 

“ Not if I could see an end to my torment, a ter- 
mination to my martyrdom.” 

“But it will come some time,” said the Duchess 
with an uneasy look, a strange, restless light in her 
eyes. “ He is old, and he cannot live forever. Yaldi- 
mer, you forget that the Duke is nearly thirty years 
older than I am. Naturally I shall be free from my 
bondage before many years.” 


184 


AN EVENING AT THE OPERA. 


‘‘ Hush, Duchess, I pray you. I caunot endure to 
speculate on a happiness built upon another’s grave.” 

‘‘ But you could endure it if you hated him as I do, if 
you had waited, and watched, and counted the weary 
years away as I have.” 

Poor Elena ! ” said Yaldimer with gentle pity, as a 
look of anguish swept for a moment over her face. 
‘‘ Your life is indeed a bitter disappointment, and your 
struggle with yourself a noble one. I love you, 1 ad- 
mire you, God only knows how deeply, for many a 
woman would have cast off all the fetters of duty, all 
the obligations due society and friends, and taken un- 
lawfully the freedom and happiness which a cruel des- 
tiny had denied her.” 

Yaldimer, you know I have done right in spite of 
the evil tongue of the world ; you applaud my firm 
resolves, my moral courage, my self-sacrifice, and yet 
you have not the strength and patience to wait with me 
for the end.” 

“ Do not accuse me, Elena, of a lack of patience and 
strength. God knows I have not failed in either. I 
have been faithful and long-suffering.” 

‘‘ But you are weary now ? ” said the Duchess, look- 
ing sadly at him. 

I did not say I was weary. No, I could still en- 
dure if there was any hope.” 

“But there is the same hope, Yaldimer,” replied the 


AN EVENING AT TEE OPERA. 


185 


Duchess with a low thrill of happiness in her voice, 
and a warm flush on her cheek. “ Only to-day I have 
thought and dreamed of it, as I never have before. I 
know not why, but some new life, some new confidence 
has taken possession of me, and I feel that I may yet 
be happy, that 1 may yet be your wife, if only you are 
patient and faithful. I have been a cold, vain, cruel 
woman, and my life so far has been a bitter failure, 
but it is not too late to redeem the past. I will be bet- 
ter, more gentle, more womanly. I will try and kill 
my auger and hate for those who wronged me so. I 
will endeavor to obtain pardon from God for my 
anger against my father, who died without my forgive- 
ness ; I will change my manner of life, I will think of 
something besides fashion and folly, and you shall love 
and esteem me more than ever before.” 

Count Yaldimer looked with wonder at the Duchess. 
She seemed to him a revelation, a new being — she, 
usually so cold, so proud, so reticent, to become so gen- 
tle and womanly and almost humble in her affection 
for him. What could have wrought the change ? and 
at the very time, too, when he was less devoted, less af- 
fectionate than he had ever been since he laid his heart 
at her feet. As he looked into her flushed, happy face 
and beaming eyes, he felt the guiltiest of traitors, for 
had he not been dreaming and thinking night and day 
of another ; had he not been trying by every means to 


186 


AN BYNNING AT THE OPERA. 


see his new charmer, to pour into her innocent young 
heart the story of his love, a love that he had already 
pledged solemnly to another, and which, in honor and 
truth, as a gentleman, he was bound to respect as some- 
thing more sacred than an ordinary intrigue with a 
woman of fashion. The Duchess of Castellara, the 
proud, the beautiful, the courted Duchess, really loved 
him, had really given him her heart in all sincerity, and 
with womanly confidence was patiently waiting until 
God removed the barrier between them to become his 
happy, honored wife. 

And now that the consummation he had desired so 
long and tliat he had sworn a thousand times was the 
dearest, tlie most sacred wish of his heart, was, by her 
own confession, possibly to be realized, he shrunk from it 
with a guilty consciousness of deception and dishonor. 
Another, a young, unknown girl, the daughter of a poor 
deformed artist, had won his treacherous heart away 
from the noble, beautiful woman at his side, and he 
was overwhelmed with contrition and shame. 

While the Duchess was waiting for him to reply to 
her earnestly-spoken words, and while his thoughts 
were wandering in this labyrinth of self-contempt, 
doubt, and regret, he raised his eyes accidentally to a 
small box in the third tier, usually occupied by the 
middle class of well-to-do Florentines, and there he 
caught a glimpse of a face, a young, angelic face 


AN EVENING AT THE OPERA. 


187 


framed in masses of pale yellow hair, that instantly 
changed the current of his thoughts and brought him 
back to the emergency of the moment. 

The Duchess, by a singular chance, raised her ej’es 
at the same moment, and she too saw for an instant a 
face that touched a long silent chord in her heart. A 
swift pallor passed over her cheek, and the hand that 
held her jewelled fan trembled visibly, while Yaldimer 
started so suddenly and colored so vividl}^ that she at 
once noticed his agitation, although, with the ready tact 
of a quick-witted woman, she resolved not to appear to 
observe him ; but she remembered the face for more 
than one reason, and when she saw it again, she looked 
at it with different eyes, and different emotions, for 
her soul was a prey to jealousy, hate, and revenge, 
and she would willingly have annihilated the innocent 
object of her contempt with one haughty glance of 
her eyes. 

Happily for both Yaldimer and the Duchess, at 
that moment t\\Qprima donna began an aria.^ and in 
spite of their deep emotion they could not refrain from 
listening, or at least appearing to; but in reality both 
were making a supreme effort to recover their calm- 
ness and self-control. 

“ Do you see the Duke in the opposite box glaring 
at us? ’’ asked Yaldimer, as the last sweet notes of the 
song died on the perfumed air. 


188 


AN EVENING AT THE OPERA. 


“ Yes, I see him,” returned the Duchess, in her 
usual calm voice ; ‘‘but it does not disturb me. I am 
accustomed to it.” 

“ He notices that our conversation has been more 
confidential than is judicious in public, and he is 
irritated.” 

“ Since you have suddenly become so prudent, had 
you not better give your chair to the Baron ? I am 
sure you have kept him .waiting quite long enough,” 
said the Duchess, in her iciest tones. 

“There you mistake me. Duchess,” replied Yaldi- 
raer, with some annoyance. “ I am not needlessly 
prudent, I can assure you, for the Duke has been in a 
very bad humor lately. He has insulted me several 
times recently in public, and I have endured it rather 
than quarrel with him.” 

“ Thank you, how considerate ! ” returned the Duch- 
ess, haughtily. “ I pray that you will not deny your- 
self satisfaction on my account.” 

“ That is enough, Elena. 1 will remember what you 
have said,” and Yaldimer, rising, bent over her so low 
that no one could hear his words. “ You are an enig- 
ma to me. A moment ago you were a woman, now 
you are the Duchess of Oastellara, so I will wish you 
good-evening, and give my seat to some one more for- 
tunate than myself.” 

The Duchess did not raise the long lashes that 


AN EVENING AT THE OPEEA. 189 

rested on her pale cheeks, but bowed coldly to Yaldi- 
mer, as she turned to welcome the German Baron who 
slipped into the Count’s seat the moment he vacated 
it 


“ I thought your friend was about to monopolize you 
for the evening, Duchess. I waited patiently for 
Nordiskoff to go, so that I might have a word with you, 
and before I could get to your side, that great German 
bear slipped into the place I was dying to reach.” 

The speaker was Enrico, as handsome and kind as 
ever, though he was no longer the ardent, hot-headed 
youth, who, in the beginning of our story, had sworn 
eternal devotion to his sweet cousin. He was now a 
grave, quiet man, of a singularly pure life and noble 
character, and none the less the devoted friend and ad- 
viser of the Duchess. 

“You are always welcome, cousin, and Heaven 
knows I would much rather have had you here this 
last hour, for I have been wearied to death with the 
senseless chatter of one and another,” said the Duch- 
ess, kindly giving him her hand. 

“ What, you do not mean to tell me that Loder’s 
grave, deliberate words, and Yaldimer’s confidential 
talk was all senseless chatter ? ” asked Enrico, leaning 
over her chair and fixing his eyes earnestly on her face. 

“No, perhaps not; Loder is sensible enough, but to- 


190 


EVENING AT THE OPEBA. 


night he has almost put me to sleep, and Yaldimer 
was so grave and abstracted that he annoyed me, and 
I showed it, so he left me in a bad humor, and that 
spoiled everything; even the voice of i\\Q Nrima donna 
sounded harsh and discordant afterward. Enrico, I 
sometimes think that I have an evil spirit in me, 
that forces me to be cruel and cold and haughty when 
I most want to be womanly and gentle. I came to 
the opera to-night light-hearted and happy, which is a 
new experience with me ; but a little thing, a simple 
thing, brought back my evil spirit, and I have lost all 
the good I gained.” 

May I ask what caused your vexation, Elena ? ” 

‘‘Certainly, cousin; you know I always open my 
heart to you as I do to no other, and I have never con- 
cealed from you my affection for ITordiskoff.” A 
pained, anxious expression passed over Enrico’s face, 
but he said nothing, and the Duchess went on: 
“ Lately, I have had the faintest suspicion that he is 
growing weary wuth hope deferred, and tired of the 
nameless bond between us. O Enrico ! this waiting: 
for dead men’s shoes is something terrible.” 

“ Oh, Duchess ! for Heaven’s sake do not speak so 
lightly on such a subject. How can you thus count 
away the days of Castellara’s life ? He is an old man, 
it is true, but he may outlive you for all that.” 

“ Why does my remark seem to shock you, Enrico ^ 


AN EVENING AT THE OPERA. 


191 


Have I ever made any secret of my hate for the man, 
that was forced upon me by the vilest deception — of 
my hope that God vrould one day free me from a 
bond that I have endured as well as I could? I never 
professed the least affection or esteem for Castellara. 
He is my husband only in name. Then why should I 
conceal from you my desire to be free from him, that 
I may become the wife of the man I love ? ” 

Are 570U sure, Elena, that you love Hordiskoff — 
that yon would become his wife if you were free ? ” 

“ Quite sure, and it is my dearest wish ; but who 
knows whether it will ever be realized ? ’’ 

Pray, do not dwell upon such a thought. It is 
wrong, my dear cousin. Trust the future to God, and 
do your duty for the present, leaving Hordiskoff en- 
tirely out of the question.” 

“ How can that be, since I care for him, and suffer 
to see him wasting his youth in such a hopeless love.” 

“ That is it, cousin ; you wrong him, and you wrong 
yourself.” 

‘‘ Good Heavens ! Enrico, would you advise me to 
give him up I ” 

“ I would. It is best for you that you should.” 

“ Ah ! those are the same words you said six years 
ago, in regard to my friendship for the Duke de Beau- 
mont, and I listened to you then. I gave him up. I 
sent him back to France half broken-hearted, for the 


192 AN EVENING AT THE OPERA, 

poor fellow really loved me ; but it cost me nothing to 
separate from him, for my heart was not the least in- 
volved. I never cared for him, and I did it to please 
you, and silence the venomous tongue of tlie world ; 
but this is another matter. I love Yaldimer,” and the 
Duchess, overcome by her feelings, brushed a tear 
from off her burning cheek, and turned her head away 
tiiat no one could witness her emotion. 

“ When did you ^ee the Duke last ? ” asked Enrico, 
after a moment’s pause. 

“ I do not remember. I think I have not spoken to 
him for some months, and he certainly has not entered 
my box for a number of weeks.” 

“ Do you see nothing portentous in his avoiding you 
so continually in public ? ” 

“ I have not thought of it. I know that he has been 
constantly in the society of Ferdinand’s discarded mis- 
tress, who has gone over to the other party and is 
working against her former lover, and that on account 
of this Castellara has lost the favor of his High- 
ness.” 

“ Then you had not heard that Ferdinand dismissed 
the Duke from his service to-day ? ” 

“Ho, I had not, and if it is true I rejoice, for I have 
spared no pains to ruin him with the Grand Duke.” 

“ Elena, pray do not be so vindictive. He is an old 
man and this dishonor maddens him ; he knows that, 


AN EVENING AT THE OPEBA. 


193 


in a measure, it is your work and he is desperate, and 
will revenge himself on Kordiskoff.” 

A dreadful pallor passed over the face of the 
Duchess, but she said bravely, I do not fear him. I 
have heard his threats before.” 

“ He will insult Yaldimer and force him to fight.” 

As he threatened to do with the Duke de Beau- 
mont.” 

It is different now ; he is a disgraced man, and he 
has nothing to lose.” 

A vindictive joy sparkled in the Duchess’s eyes, and 
her voice had a ring of triumph in it as she exclaimed : 
‘‘ I have kept my vow. 1 swore to be revenged on 
Castellara for my ruined life, and at last I see my 
hour drawing near. Who knows but that this may be 
the end of my bondage ? for if he challenges Hordis- 
koff, his death is certain, and my freedom assured.” 

“ Hush, Elena, hush, for Heaven’s sake,” said Enrico, 
bending over her. “ You forget where you are ; you 
are excited and nervous ; you are not yourself ; come, 
allow me to take you home.” 

Without the least resistance she allowed Enrico to 
wrap her cloak around her and lead her to her car- 
riage ; and when there, and the door closed, she leaned 
her head on her cousin’s shoulder and wept long and 
bitterl}". 

While this scene was going on with Enrico in the 
9 


194 


AN EVENING AT THE OPERA. 


box of the Duchess of Castellara, Count Yaldimer ITor- 
diskoff sauntered slowly up to the third tier, where 
he found an empty box, which he entered, and con- 
cealing himself behind the curtain, he fixed his eyes 
on the loggia opposite, where, in the shadow of tlie 
drapery, he could discover the bent form of Hugo, and 
near him, her face radiant with delight, his daughter 
Lisa. 

It was the first time in her life that the young girl 
had ever listened to an opera, although she had en- 
treated her father repeatedly to allow her to enjoy 
that happiness, if only for once; but he had always 
refused her decidedly, telling her that it was no place 
for the poor and lowly, especially for one afflicted as 
he was — who had no desire to flaunt liis deformity in 
the eyes of the proud and fashionable. To such rea- 
soning she could find no answer, for she understood 
how sensitive her unfortunate father was, and how 
cruel it would be to force him into a position where 
he must suffer intolerably to give her a pleasure ; so 
for some time she had not spoken of 'it ; but, in spite of 
her silence, she desired it all the same. 

One day it occurred to Hugo, after he had watched 
the girl narrowly, that some change had come over 
her. She was pale and silent, and her eyes often looked 
as though she had wept in secret ; or she was restless, 
feverish, irritable, her appetite failed, and she lost her 


AN EVENING AT THE OPERA, 195 

interest in her father’s work, posing wearily and lan- 
guidly for the statue of Hebe, that was growing slowly 
and surely into life and beauty under the artist’s cun- 
ning hand. 

“ What can ail her ? ” he said to Signora Pia. 
“ Can she be ill ? ” 

“No, indeed, she is not ill, she is only dull; she is 
young and needs pleasure — give her a little change, 
and she will be cheerful again.” 

So Hugo conquered his repugnance to appearing in 
public, and took Lisa to hear “ La Favorita.” 

At first the girl was almost wild with delight. The 
music, the lights, the gay crowd, the beautiful scenes 
on the stage, the acting, the singers — and more than 
all, the lovely jprima donna enchanted her, and her 
father could scarce keep her ardor within the bounds 
of propriety. She would lean forward, and clasp her 
little hands rapturously, and almost shout with delight, 
until her beauty and enthusiasm attracted the atten- 
tion of many, and numerous glasses were levelled at 
their humble loggia. Suddenly she started and turned 
deadly pale, and her eyes had a wild, frightened look, 
as she leaned forward and fixed her gaze on an oppo- 
site box. Hugo watched her narrowly, a strange sus- 
picion filling his heart. She had seen some one she 
recognized, and who could it be ? There seemed to be 
nothing where she was looking but a fiiittering curtain 


196 


NEMESIS. 


before an empty box. Still the expression of her face 
did not deceive him, there was some mystery that he 
did not understand. 

At length she turned her fixed gaze .from the empty 
loggia opposite, and glancing down to the first tier, her 
face suddenly lighted up, and leaning toward her 
father, she said, in a suppressed whisper, Look, papa, 
do you see that lovely lady yonder ? I know her face, 
she is the one I talked with that day in San Miniato — 
she is the one who gave me the rosary.” 


CHAPTER XIII. 

NEMESIS. 

T the end of the month, according to his agree- 
ment with the hunchback. Count Yaldimer 
presented himself at the studio of the strange 
artist, ostensibly to criticise the statue of Hebe, but, in 
reality, to endeavor to obtain an interview with the fair 
model. 

When he entered, admitted by Signora Pia accord- 
ing to instruction, he found Hugo working diligently, 
but he was alone, and the visitor sought vainl ; n 
every part of the vast room for the fair face and 



NEMESIS. 


197 


golden hair of the lovely Lisa, whom he hoped to find 
in the company of her father, or rather alone, for he 
fancied it might be his happy chance to arrive during 
some of the frequent absences of the artist. But his 
good genius did not favor him to that extent ; the 
hunchback was at his post and received his patron 
with almost sullen indifference, scarce deigning to dis- 
cuss the merits of the work that was growing into sur- 
passing beauty under his skilful hand. 

But while Yaldimer was secretly enraged at this 
apathetic reception, he could find no rational fault, 
since the work was so perfect ; neither could he frame 
any excuse for prolonging his visit beyond a reasonable 
time ; so, reluctantly, he was obliged to leave without 
obtaining' even a glimpse of the object of his adora- 
tion. 

It had been some days since he had knelt by her 
side in the Church of San Marco, and although he had 
haunted the same spot at Yespers, she had come no 
more, and his heart seemed to be consuming with the 
ardor of a love which, the more it was suppressed and 
thwarted, the more it was increased and strengthened. 
It was true that he had seen her that night at the 
opera, had watched her exquisite face lighted up with 
enthusiasm and delight. How fresh and sweet and 
innocent she was ; how different from a cold, haughty 
woman of the world ; how he longed to be by her 


198 


NEMESIS. 


side, to hear her naive expressions of pleasure, to look 
into the depths of her heavenly eyes, to listen to the 
music of her laugh ! but that was not possible ; he was 
separated from her by the convenances of society, by 
the watchful care of her sullen, suspicious father, by 
every obstacle that could keep two ardent, loving 
hearts asunder. But these he meant to overcome ; 
there was nothing that his impetuous heart would not 
undertake to break down the barriers between them. 
He was rich and free, then what was there to prevent 
him from winning her at last? A little time, a little 
patience, and he would have his reward. 

So he went as often as he dared to the studio in the 
Via San Gallo, where he always found Hugo alone, 
working in sullen silence, in feverish haste to com- 
plete an order that was to give him wealth and peace, 
and freedom from fear and anxiety. 

One day, as he entered rather hastily, he caught a 
glimpse of a blue robe and a fringe of golden hair just 
disappearing through the door, and that was all ; for 
Hugo was before him, almost barring his entrance 
until the light figure had entirely disappeared. The 
same day he saw a piece of embroidery lying on a 
bench at the feet of Apollo, and taking it up, when 
Hugo was not looking, he pressed his lips to it, feeling 
sure that she would know that he had kissed it. But 
she did not. As subtle as love may be, Lisa did not 


NEMESIS, 


199 


detect her lover’s kiss or touch on the work she had so 
hastily dropped when her father told her to leave the 
room, for a stranger was about to enter. I^either did 
she know that the rich Russian noble who had ordered 
the Hebe was the same person who had smiled on her 
from behind the statue of Fauna, and knelt by her side 
in the Church of San Marco. 

Another day, after he had been there, she found a 
violet carelessly dropped on her work. Was it an 
accident, or had it been placed there ? She could not 
tell, but she pressed it to her lips, and afterward hid it 
in her bosom without saying anything to her father. 
For some reason it seemed a message from the one she 
thought of so constantly. 

As day after day passed by, the poor girl grew paler 
and sadder, and her father watched her more closely, 
until his anxious scrutiny became a positive pain to 
her; he would not suffer her to leave his sight, nor 
take her to the gardens, nor allow her to accompany 
Signora Pia to Yespers. It seemed as though he 
feared tliat the very air would absorb her, or some 
unseen hand snatch her away from his side ; and as 
his anxiety increased, he too became restless and fever- 
isli ; he could not sleep, he no longer relished his food, 
even his work became distasteful to him ; but he forced 
himself to it for the sake of what it was to give him. 

Sometimes in desperation he would throw down his 


200 


NEMESIS. 


tools and rush out into the open air, and hurry through 
the streets and gardens as though an evil spirit pur- 
sued him. He was haunted by a fear, a vague, nameless 
fear, that some terrible calamity was coming upon him ; 
that his secret was about being discovered ; that all he 
loved or prized in the world was about to be taken 
from him, and he was almost in despair ; the slumber- 
ing fires in his nature seemed about to break forth in 
awful destruction, and he had no power to restrain 
them. 

One day he climbed the hill of San Miniato, and 
entering the church, he knelt and prayed long and 
fervently ; then he descended to the spot under the 
cypress trees where he had stolen the child, and wept 
and entreated God again and again to forgive him and 
save him from despair. 

He had reached what seemed to him the summit of 
worldly prosperity, wealth was about to be his, and he 
had already won all the fame his heart desired, yet 
he was wretched, more wretched than he had ever 
been, for he felt with fatal certainty that he was 
about to be plunged from prosperity and liappiness 
into sudden, irretrievable ruin. 

One morning he tried vainly to work from Lisa’s 
drooping, spiritless figure, but even his model failed to 
inspire him ; instead of the glowing goddess of youth, 
he was modelling a statue of sorrow; her 'wan, sad face 


NEMESI8. 


201 


was a reproacli to him, and seemed to arouse a feeling 
of anger in his heart that he could not overcome. 

‘‘ In Heaven’s name,” he said harshly, why do you 
wear such a face, when I wish you to look happy ? Go 
to your room, and do not return until you can bring a 
more cheerful expression with you.” 

The poor girl went away weeping bitterly, and the 
sight of her tears almost maddened him. Throwing 
down his tools, he sank into a chair and covered his 
face in an agony of sorrow. He had made his idol 
weep, he had spoken harshly to this lovely, tender 
child that he worshipped. What a fiend he was ! 
There must be some evil demon in his misshapen body 
that was suddenly unloosed. What could he do to 
gain her forgiveness ? Where could he go for help in 
his trouble ? Suddenly he remembered that day, so 
many years ago, when in his despair he had gone to 
pray before he ushered his guilty soul into eternity, 
that the Angel of the Church had appeared to him and 
saved him from himself. Would she save him now ? 
He had always worn the ring that she had given him ; 
drawing it from his bosom he pressed it to his lips, 
and the touch seemed to reassure him. “ I have never 
needed her before,” he said. I have never been in 
despair since that day. How I will see if I can find her, 
and perhaps she will save me, as she did then.” 

At that moment there was a knock at the door, and 


NEMESIS. 


] 202 

Signora Pia, looking in, said : Here is a lady who 
wishes to see you, Signore. May she enter ? ’’ 

And before he could reply, the visitor stood in his 
presence. 

For a moment neither spoke. Signora Pia closed 
the door, and left them alone. 

Then the lady, fixing her clear eyes upon him with 
earnest scrutiny, said, in a voice that sounded in his ear 
like a strain of heavenly music : 

“ Is it possible ! are you Hugo the artist ? Are you 
the great sculptor that all Florence is talking of ? ” 

“ I am Hugo,” he answered, humbly and simply, 
and all the while his sad gaze seemed to be searching 
for something in her face. 

“ And you have forgotten me ^ ” 

Ah ! Signora. You bring back something in my 
past, some blessed memory, but of what I cannot tell.” 

Have you forgotten the Church of Santo Spirito, 
where, sixteen years ago, you wept and prayed in terri- 
ble grief ? ” 

“ Forgotten it ! no. Signora, how could I ever for- 
get that day when an angel saved me from despair ? ” 

“ A woman offered you her human sympathy, you 
should say, and gave you a ring, which she told you to 
keep until you needed her help.” 

“ Ah ! Signora., how did you learn that ? Yes, you 

speak truly, and I have the ring. I have worn it next 

9 * 


NEMESIS, 


203 


my heart ever siuce. Here it is,” and Hugo drew 
forth the little band of gold, so lately wet with his 
tears. 

A sad smile passed over the visitor’s face, and she 
, said softly, as though she were speaking to herself, 
“ The gift is retained, but the giver is forgotten.” 

“ Madre di Dio ! Is it true ? Are you the Angel 
of the Church % ” cried Hugo, dropping on his knees, 
and clasping his hands appealingly. 

‘‘Yes, my friend, I am the same woman; but rise, I 
pray you. Do not kneel to me.” 

And to think that I should ever forget the face of 
one who was my salvation,” said the hunchback, over- 
come with shame and surprise. 

“ But my face is not the same, my friend ; the years, 
the bitter strife, the pain, and sin, and anger of my 
life, have changed and marred my features.” 

“ Ah ! not so. Signora ; you are lovely now,” mur- 
mured Hugo, with reverent admiration ; “ but you are 
different. You were like an angel then, but now you 
are like a queen ” 

“ And you, my friend, how little I thought to see in 
the great artist, the man whose genius all admire, the 
one whom I once comforted a little with my aid and 
sympathy.” 

“ The one you saved. Signora, for had it not been 
for you I should not be living to-day. I should not be 


204 


NEMESIS. 


what I am. God sent you to save me from destruction 
then, and perhaps he has sent you again, for I need 
you now.” 

“ What, is it possible that you are unhappy, when 
you are so prosperous ? ” 

“ Most wretched. Signora.” 

“ In what way, my friend ? How can I aid you ? ” 

“ By saving me from myself. I suffer because I am 
my own enemy. I am ungrateful. God has given me 
much, and I would have more.” 

“ What would you have that you have not ? ” 

Hugo dropped his eyes, and hesitated before this 
direct question. Alas I now that he had found a 
heart to pour his sorrow into, he could not avail him- 
self of the comfort it might give him. He could not 
be cured because he could not tell his disease. He 
could not confess his sin, therefore he could not be 
forgiven ; realizing this, he paused on the threshold of 
confidence, and withdrew his sorrow again within the 
recesses of his own overburdened soul. 

“What is your sorrow? Cannot you open youf 
heart to me ? ” urged the gentle voice. 

Then Hugo, evading the true answer, said with 
some hesitation : 

“ I hate myself. Signora, and I would be as others are.” 

“ My poor friend, why hate thyself when God hath 
created thee as thou art ? ” 


NEMESI8. 


205 


“ Ah, Signora, because I would have what my 
talents can never give me, and what I would prize 
more than honor, wealth, or fame.” 

“ And what is that ? ” 

“ Human love. Signora.” 

‘‘ Alas, my friend, it is but a name. There is no such 
thing as love. There is self-interest, there is passion, 
there are a thousand emotions that the heart mistakes 
for love ; but love such as you have dreamed of — per- 
haps, such as you believe exists — I have never met 
with.” 

“ And if you have never met with it, you, so lovely, 
so favored by your Creator, how can I, a poor, afflicted, 
misshapen creature, dare to expect it ? ” 

“ As you are, you are spared all illusions, all de- 
ceptions, all professions that mean nothing. Your 
heart is not wounded as others have been. Thank God 
for that. It is His compensation fo;* your misfortune.” 

“ Can you say truly. Signora, that love is a myth, 
imaginary, and not possible? because if you can, it 
will reconcile me to my deformity, my trouble, my 
disappointments — ^in fact, to the life that an hour ago 
I felt to be a burden too heavy to bear.” 

The Duchess turned her face away from the sad, 
imploring gaze of the hunchback, who seemed to wait 
for her answer as though his very life depended upon 
it. But for her soul’s salvation she could not have 


206 


NEMESIS. 


said, at that moment, that there was no such thing as 
human love ; for a memory, a clinging, tender mem- 
ory of her girlhood, that had colored her whole life, 
and had given her all the sweet, pure happiness she 
had ever known, flooded her heart, and welled to her 
eyes in hot, passionate tears. 

“ You do not answer me. Signora, because you would 
not teach me what is false. The heart beating in my 
ill-favored body is like that of all mankind, and it tells 
me I can never enjoy the sweetest blessing that God 
has bestowed on all humanity, and I do not expect it ; 
but a filial love, a natural love, ought my misfortune 
to deprive me of that ? ” 

I scarcely understand you. Signor Hugo ; explain 
yourself more clearly.” 

“ I have a daughter — a young and beautiful daughter.” 

You ? Is it possible ? ” said the Duchess with ill- 
concealed surj)rise. “ 1 did not suppose you had any 
ties of that kind.” 

“ I have this one child,” continued Hugo, without 
seeming to notice the Duchess’s astonishment. ‘‘ She 
is all I have in the world to love, and I worship her.” 

‘‘ And her mother, where is she ? ” 

“ She is dead. Signora,” replied the hunchback, low- 
ering his eyes ; “ she died when Lisa was a baby.” 

“ You say your child is lovely. I trust she is affec- 
tionate and dutiful.” 


NEMESIS. 


207 


“ She is an angel of goodness, Signora, and she has 
always loved me so tenderly ; her heart has been like 
an open book before me ; she has told me all her little 
joys and sorrows. She has made me her best friend, 
her only companion, and she has seemed light-hearted, 
happy, and contented until recently. Within a few 
weeks there has been a change in her. She is silent 
and sad, or feverish and restless by turns. She is dis- 
satisfied with her humble home, she cares no more for 
her books, and, worse than all, I fear she does not love 
me as she did. I fear that she is concealing some- 
thing from me, and my heart is breaking, I am too 
miserable to live, and I know not what to do. Tell 
me, I pray. Signora, how can 1 win back her love and 
confidence ? ” 

“ How old is she, my friend ? ” 

“She has just passed sixteen, but she seems older 
than her age.” 

“ She may be in love. Has she a lover ? ” 

“A lover. Signora? Why, she is but a child,” cried 
Hugo, pale and trembling at the possibility, “ and she 
has seen no one, she has never been anywhere without 
me, then how can she have a lover ? ” 

“ I know not, but it seems a reasonable solution to 
the riddle, and if she is young and lovely, it is but a 
natural consequence.” 

“ But she has seen no one, Signora,” persisted the 


208 


NEMESIS. 


hunchback. “It cannot be. Oh I she cannot love 
another better than the father who has worshipped 
her. The thought is death to me.” 

“But you must give her up to a husband some day, 
my friend.” 

“ That I never will do I ” cried Hugo, with sudden 
rage. “ Ho one shall take her from me. I will see 
her dead first.” 

“That is unreasonable. Calm yourself, and you 
will see that such a determination is folly.” 

“ Pardon me, Signora ; you see that my evil spirit 
still gets the better of me. I have loved the child so, 
that I cannot think calmly of the possibility of losing 
her.” 

“ Perhaps I am mistaken ; the change that you 
notice in her may arise from other causes.” 

“Can it be that she has just begun to realize what 
a wretched, deformed creature her father is ? Is it a 
natural repugnance for my hideous self that keeps her 
away from me? Oh I tell me. Signora, can it be 
that ? ” And the hunchback, entirely overcome by his 
feelings, covered his face and sobbed as he had done 
on that day when the Duchess first saw him weeping 
in the Church of Santo Spirito. 

“ My friend, you must control yourself, and not give 
way in this weak manner to imaginary trouble. Tour 
daughter, as you say, is but a child; and who can 


NEMESIS, 


209 


account for the caprices of childhood ? Do not distress 
yourself with the idea that your deformity estranges 
her heart from you. She has seen you always, and I 
will wager that she never thinks of it ; and that she 
loves you as well as any child can love a parent.” 

Hugo raised his tear-stained eyes to the face of the 
Duchess with a look of gratitude, and taking her hand, 
he pressed it humbly to his lips. 

“ Thank you. Signora, for your kind words ; they 
give me new life ; but tell me, what can I do to make 
the child happy as she once was ? ” 

‘‘ Give her young companions and more freedom ; 
for youth craves change and amusement. Take my 
advice, and you will see her as gay and happy as a 
bird.” 

Hugo’s countenance fell. She had advised what he 
could not and would not do, but he said nothing. 

Tlie Duchess watched him closely for a moment, 
and then added : “ I hope you have told me the real 
cause of your trouble ; that you have kept nothing 
back, otherwise my advice will be of no benefit to 
you.” 

“ I have told you all. Signora,” returned the hunch- 
back a little sullenly, “ and I thank you for your advice.” 

“ Now, my friend, I will inform you of the object of 
my visit ; for I had an object in coming, but my sur- 
prise at finding in Signor Hugo an old acquaintance 


210 


NEMESIS. 


lias almost driven it from my mind,” said the Duch- 
ess, looking curiously around the studio. I came here 
to give the most popular sculptor in Florence a com- 
mission.” 

I am at your service, as you well know. Signora. 
What would you have me do ? ” 

“ I would like a statue of myself.” 

“ That will be a pleasure, and I need not assure you 
that I will do my best. Is it to be a portrait, Signora, 
or in character.” 

“ A cliaracter and a portrait both, if you can com- 
bine the two effectively.” 

“ That depends on the character.” 

‘‘ I have decided on it. It is to be Hemesis.” 

“ Nemesis, the goddess of vengeance ? ” 

“ Yes, it is a fancy, and I would have it so.” 

“ But, Signora, I cannot model a portrait of you in 
that character. There is not a line or an expression in 
your face like the fierce demon of revenge.” 

“ When I think of my wrongs, I can put my desire 
into my face, and instead of the Duchess of Castel- 
lara, you will see before you retribution personified.” 

And as she spoke her eyes glowed and deepened 
with such vindictive hate that Hugo trembled and 
shrunk from her as though she had some injury to 
avenge on him. The years had indeed changed her. 
Was this the sweet, compassionate woman who had 


NEMESI8, 


211 


stood before him in Santo Spirito ? was this implaca- 
ble, cruel enemy the Angel of the Church ? 

“ Madre di he thought, ‘‘ if I were her victim, 

she would kill me with her glance.” But he only said, 
‘‘ I will try. Signora. I will do my best to produce the 
character you desire to assume ; still I wish it were some 
other impersonation in which I could do both you and 
myself more justice.” 

“ I am satisfied with my choice, and I am willing to 
leave it to you to work out. Do not lose my face in 
the character nor the character in my face, that is all 
I ask ; combine the two, and I shall be content. Vfhen 
can I have my first sitting % ” 

“ To-morrow, if it suits you. Signora.” 

“ Then I will be here at this hour.” 

“ Yery well, I shall be at your service.” 

“ And I trust to find you in better spirits, and more 
reconciled to your destiny,” added the Duchess, ris- 
ing and drawing her veil over her face. 

“ I will endeavor to be, Signora,” returned Hugo, as 
he opened the door for her. 

Then he watched her descend the stairs with a proud, 
firm step, her silken garments trailing after her, and 
he murmured to himself : 

“ The Angel of the Church as Hemesis. What can it 
mean ? ” 


212 


A DISCO VBBY. 


CHAPTEE XIY. 

A DISCOVERY. 

soon as the Duchess of Castellara left Hugo’s 
studio, he sent Signora Pia to bring Lisa to 
him, for his heart was longing to be recon- 
ciled with the child, to whom he had never before, in 
all her life, spoken an angry word. 

As she entered, her red, swollen eyes, and pale face 
were a silent reproach to him, although she had 
wiped away her tears, and was striving to appear 
cheerful, as he had commanded her to do. Looking 
timidly at him' to see if he were still angered, there 
was an expression of fear mingled with sorrow on her 
sweet face, that pierced him to the heart, and almost 
bowed him to the earth before her in deepest peni- 
tence. 

With all his love and contrition in his face, he held 
out his arms as she approached, and taking her close 
to his heart he sobbed : “ Forgive me, my darling, for 
speaking to you in anger, forgive me.” 

“ Hush, dear papa ! It was I who provoked it with 
my indifference. My heart was not in your work, and 
so my face showed it ; but I will do better now.” 



A DISCOVERT. 


213 


“ And why was not your heart in my work ? ’’ 
asked Hugo, tenderly stroking her hair. 

“ I was thinking of something else, papa.” 

“ And what sad thoughts could my Lisa have — for 
surely they were sad when her face looked so sorrow- 
ful ? ” 

“I do not know,” she stammered. ‘‘I scarcely 
remember now what was in my mind.” 

“ My child, look into my face ; do not avert your 
gaze from me. There is something in your heart that 
you would conceal from your father.” He spoke very 
gently, but very earnestly, as though he entreated her 
to unburden her soul to him. But she continued to 
look away without speaking. 

“ If there is any ungratified wish in your heart, any 
sorrow, hope, or fear, tell it pie, and let me be your 
best friend, your guide, your support. God knows, I 
will do all for you that a loving, unselfish parent 
can.” 

“ I know it, papa; you are always good ; but there is 
nothing to tell you,” she replied, in a low voice, still 
looking away. 

“ Are you quite sure, darling ? ” 

A vivid blush passed over the girl’s cheeks and 
brow, and the tears came suddenly to her eyes, but she 
forced them back, and said quietly: “Have I ever 
told you an untruth, papa ? ” 


214 


A DISCOVERY. 


“ Never, my cliild.” 

“Then, cannot you trust me now, and I will be 
your own dear, good Lisa, and never grieve you 
again.” 

“ God bless you, my treasure,” and Hugo took her 
lovely face between his hands, and looked down into 
the liquid depths of hei- eyes with an eager, hungry, 
longing gaze, as though he would read her soul 
through and through, and then asked : “ My Lisa, are 
you sure you love me ? ” 

“ Quite sure, papa,” she returned, with unflinching 
eyes. 

“ Better than any one in the world ? ” 

The white lids fell, a hot blush suffused her cheeks 
again, and, with a short, forced laugh, she replied : 
“ Oh ! you dear, foolish papa, whom have I in the 
world to love beside you ? ” 

Hugo let her face fall from between his hands, and 
turned away with a heavy sigh ; he was not satisfied — 
she was hiding something from him. Her nature was 
as transparent as crystal, and he could detect the faint 
shadow of concealment there. 

“ Now, papa, do not look sad ; come, let us go to 
work on the Hebe, and I will try to appear as you wish 
me to, for I arn happier than I was, and I do not mean 
to offend you with my sad looks again.” 

“ You may amuse yourself with your books or your 


A DisGovmr. 


215 


embroidery, my child, for I shall not work on the Hebe 
to-day. I must go out and find some clay for a new 
order.” 

‘‘ A new order, papa ? Why, what have you to do now ? 
Oh! how famous you are becoming. Tell me, what is 
it ? ” cried Lisa, running to him and kissing him fondly 
on both cheeks. 

“ I have to make a statue of the Duchess of Castellara.” 

‘‘ The Duchess of Castellara ! Is she not the one 
they call the most beautiful lady in Florence ? ” 

“ She is very beautiful and very rich,” returned Hugo 
musingly. 

“Ah, papa, how proud I am when all the great 
Florentines come to you to ask for your work ! Some 
day we will be as grand and rich as they are, and it 
will be because of your genius.” 

An expression of satisfaction passed over the hunch- 
back’s face, for her praise was very sweet to him, and 
kissing her again he took his hat and went out, leaving 
her alone in the great, dreary room, with her dumb com- 
panions and her own thoughts. 

Taking her embroidery, as her father had recom- 
mended, she sat down in her usual place, but, instead of 
working, she fell to thinking, as she always did when 
she was alone, of her hero of romance — the handsome 
unknown who had written those sweet words that lay 
ne.^t her heart, and who had pressed her hand as she 


216 


A DISCOVERT. 


knelt at her prayers in the Chapel of the Sacrament. 
IIow long it had been since she had seen him, and how 
slowly the days dragged away, without the hope of 
seeing him again. 

Suddenly she lieard steps outside. There ^comes 
Signora Pia,” she thought. “ Oh, I cannot even be 
alone long enough to think of him.” 

The door opened, she heard the old woman say, 
“ The Signore has come,” and looking up she saw the 
object of her thoughts standing before her. Then the 
door closed. Signora Pia went away without looking 
in and they were alone. 

At first she was so overcome by surprise and joy, that 
she could neither move nor speak, but sat at the feet 
of Apollo silent, her face covered witli burning blushes, 
which she feared would betray her secret. 

Count Yaldimer cast a hurried, searching look around 
the studio, and seeing that no one was present but the 
girl, he came forward eagerly, with outstretched hands 
and radiant face, saying, “ Ah! this is a greater happi- 
ness than I dared to hope for.” 

“ My papa is not in. Signore,” said Lisa, rising and 
making an effort to recover from her confusion. “ If 
you wish to see him, perhaps you will be good enough 
to- wait until he returns.” And she turned towards the 
door, as if she were about to leave the room. 

“Pray do not go, Signorina,” cried Yaldimer, step- 


A DISCO VERY. 


217 


ping before her, ‘‘ I have been trying for weeks to see 
you a moment alone, to speak to you without being 
overheard, and now that my good fortune has given me 
the chance, I beg tliat you will not deprive me of it.” 

“ But papa would be angry, if he knew I spoke to a 
stranger when he was absent,” returned the poor girl, 
trembling with mingled happiness and fear. 

“ But he need never know it, my sweet child.” 

“ Signora Pia will tell him. Oh ! why did she al- 
low you to enter ? ” 

“ She did not know your father had gone out ; she 
believed him to be here, or she certainly would not 
have ushered me in with such confidence ; but since 
she has done so, permit me to remain, Signorina; 
permit me to tell you how I love you, and how long I ^ 
have been trying to see you. In all my visits here, 
'which were only for you, this is the first time my pa- 
tience has been rewarded. Kow do not banish me 
before you listen to what I have to say.” 

“ I pray then, Signore, that you will be brief. If 
my father should return and find you here, his anger 
would be terrible, for he has always forbidden me tc 
speak with strangers.” 

“But, sweetest Lisa, we are not strangers. I love 
you ! I adore you ; then how can we be strangers ? I 
see you do not know who I am.” 

“ No, Signore, I do not even know your name.” 

10 


218 


A DISCOVERT. 


“I am Count Yaldimer Kordiskoff. I am the Kus- 
sian noble for whom your father is making the statue 
of Hebe.” 

“Oh! Signore, is it possible that you are he and 
Lisa drew back with a sort of awe in her face. “ I 
did not know that you were a noble. A poor girl 
such as 1 am must not listen to your professions of 
love.” 

Yaldimer smiled at her sweet simplicity, and went 
on : “I love you, and I gave your father this commis- 
sion so that through it I might see you, for I cannot 
live without you.” 

“ But you are a noble, and so rich,” said Lisa, her 
sweet earnest eyes fixed on his handsome face. 

“That surely is no objection. It is much better to 
be noble than common, and rich than poor. I will 
make you a lady, my lovely angel, and give you all 
your heart can wish for.” 

“ How good and generous you must be. Why, you 
are giving papa a fortune for the Hebe.” 

“ Ah ! that is but little. My love for you is greater 
than all the wealth of the world. How, what will you 
give me in return ? ” 

“ I know not. Signore. What can a poor girl like 
me give to one so noble and rich as you are ? ” 

“You can give me your sweet love, my lily, my 
fair, pure flower, and that is all I ask.” 


A DISCOVBIiY. 


219 


“But why should you care for my humble love? 
Surely the proudest in the land would not scorn you ? ” 

“ I care not for the proudest, I care only for you. 
Tell me, Lisa, do you love me ? ” and Count Yaldimer 
took her pretty white hands in his and looked earnest- 
ly into her eyes. 

The girl withdrew her hands from his passionate 
clasp, and leaning her slim young figure against the 
statue of Apollo, she looked at him steadily with her 
pure, candid eyes, and said : “ I have never told a 
falsehood. Signore, and I know not how to now ; there- 
fore, I must say that I think I do love you, that I fear 
I do, for I have thought of you ever since I saw you 
that day in the garden behind the statue of Fauna. I 
suppose it must be love that I feel for you, but it is 
different from my love for God, the Blessed Virgin, el- 
even my father.” 

“ Sweet angel ! and so it should be ; for you should 
love me better than anything in heaven or on earth. 
I^ow we understand each other, do we not? I wor- 
ship, I adore you, and you return my love. Is that 
not true ? ” 

“ It must be as you say. Signore,” returned Lisa, 
looking at him with worshipful glances. 

“Do not call me Signore, call me Valdimer.” 

“ Ah ! I dare not.” 

“But you shall not fear me, you must not. You 


220 


A DISCO VBEY. 


must trust me before auj other ou earth, and you 
must think only of me, and try to see me as often as 
possible.” 

‘‘ How can I, Signore, without my father’s consent ? ” 
But you must ; he must never know it, for if he 
should discover our love, he would separate us forever.” 

Lisa trembled and turned pale. Ah ! my God, if 
I should see you no more.” 

But you shall, if you listen to me and do what I 
tell you. I have taken an apartment on the other side 
of the court, wliere I can see your room. When your 
father is absent draw the curtain of your window, and 
I will come.” 

“And Signora Pia, she will not admit you if she 
knows my father is from home.” 

“ But you must open the door for me yourself when 
she is engaged with her household duties.” 

“ That cannot be right to deceive her and my father.” 

“ My Lisa, if you love me it is right. 1 must see 
you, and I can think of no other plan for the present. 
How, my angel, I must leave you before your father 
returns, for if he should discover us, it would be ruin 
to our hopes, and eternal separation. Go to your room 
and I will ring for your woman and tell her that I can 
wait no longer for your father, and she will never 
know you were here when I entered. One kiss, my 
sweet love, before we part, and remember our compact.” 


A DJSoovjs;iir. 


221 


Lisa gave him her hand, and before he could touch 
her sweet face she slipped away from his clasp and 
disappeared through the door leading to her own room, 
her heart beating tumultuously with rapture, fear, and 
love. 

Yaldimer watched her out of sight, with an expres- 
sion of deep satisfaction. “ What an angelic creature 
she is,” he said ; “ and she loves me beyond a doubt. 
Now, if I can only outwit that old fiend of a hunch- 
back, my way is clear, and she is mine.” 

Then he turned and touched a bell on a table near, 
summoning Signora Pia, who entered immediately. 

‘‘ Did you not tell me that Signor Hugo was in ? ” he 
asked, coldly. 

“ Yes, Signor Count, and I thought he was. I did 
not know that he had gone out,” replied the good 
woman, looking around the empty room in astonish- 
ment. 

“Well, you see he is not here, and I can wait no 
longer. I will come to-morrow,” and Count Yaldimer 
walked calmly out, followed by Signora Pia’s profuse 
apologies. 

“ That is singular,” said she, as she closed the door. 
“ I thought the Signorina was there with her father, but 
he has gone out and the child must be sleeping in her 
own room.” 

The next day the Duchess of Castellara came, accord- 


222 


A DISCOVERT. 


iiig to agreement, for her first sitting; and Hugo, 
almost unwillingly, began to model a ISTemesis out of 
the clay, which he would have preferred to have made 
into something more gentle and womanly. 

“You seem happier to-day, my friend,” said the 
Duchess as the work went on. 

“ I am. Signora,” ^returned Hugo, “ for I had some 
conversation with Lisa, and the sweet child was so 
gentle and loving that I think my fears were ground- 
less. Last night she was as bright and happy as ever, 
and this morning her voice has been ringing through 
the house as clear and joyous as a lark.” 

“ Perhaps you promised her some amusement, and 
that expectation will make a young girl merry, if any- 
thing will.” 

“ I promised her nothing. I only appealed to her 
love for me, to her noble, generous nature.” 

“ Then I was mistaken about the lover ? ” 

“ I think so. Signora, or rather I am sure of it.” 
Then Hugo remembered his own doubts, and his voice 
trembled slightly as he added, “ She is such a child, and 
so truthful, that she would never deceive me ; no, I will 
not wrong her by suspecting her. If there is any- 
thing on her mind, I think she will tell me some time 
of her own free will.” 

“ That is a sensible view to take of it,” returned the 
Duchess. “ But still you must not neglect your duty 


A DISCOVBMT. 


223 


by trusting her too far ; such a lovely girl can scarcely 
be without admirers, and she may have seen some one 
in the gardens or in the churches.” 

The hunchback grew uneasy as she went on, and 
looked around restlessly. ‘‘ I always go with her to 
the gardens, and I select a retired spot where there are 
no gallants to look at her, and in the churches she is 
very devout and pious. I am sure she thinks of other 
things there.” 

The Duchess smiled a little sadly. I see, my 
friend, that you do not understand a woman’s nature. 
The most truthful will be hypocrites in affairs of the 
heart. I only wished to put you on your guard. I am 
a woman, and I understand their ways. It will do no 
harm to watch her.” 

I shall watch her, never fear. She will have but a 
poor chance if she tries to deceive me ; but I would 
rather trust her than suspect her,” returned Hugo, 
working nervously and evidently ill at ease. 

“ Let me see the child,” said the Duchess at length; 

I am interested in her, for from all you say of her, 
she must be as good as she is lovely.” 

“ Ah ! Signora, you are most kind. If she is fortu- 
nate enough to find a friend in you, I shall be deeply 
grateful. Shall I send for her at once ? ” 

‘‘ As you like. I am weary of sitting to-day, and am 
not quite equal to the character I am personating, 


224 


A DISC OVERT. 


therefore I should like to see her while lam in a gen- 
tle mood.” 

When Lisa entered the studio, at her father’s sum- 
mons, she knew she was about to meet the Duchess of 
Castellara, the most beautiful lady in Florence, and 
she was in a little tremor of excited expectation, which 
made her lovelier than ever, adding lustre to her eyes 
and a deeper tint of rose to her cheek. Hugo looked 
at her with pride as he took her hand and led her to 
the lady, saying, “ This is my child, Duchess. Lisa, 
this is the Duchess of Castellara, who is good enough 
to express an interest in you.” 

The girl raised her sweet, blue eyes timidly to the 
proud, beautiful face that looked down upon her at 
the first glance, and uttered a little cry of surprise and 
delight. Oh ! papa, I have seen the Duchess before ; 
she is the kind lady who gave me the rosary in the 
Church of San Miniato.” 

“ Is it possible that you can remember me ? It was 
years ago,” returned the Duchess, with a proud, cold 
look, ‘‘and I had quite forgotten the circumstance; 
but now that you speak of it, I have a recollection of 
giving a child some trifiing present there.” 

“ I have it here now. Signora,” said Lisa, drawing it 
from her bosom ; “ I have worn it always, and I have 
never forgotten you.” 

While the girl was speaking Hugo watched both her 


A DWaOVBJiF. 


225 


and the Duchess closely. What could be the meaning 
of that strange look on the face of the woman — the 
mingled expression of wonder, surprise, anger, and 
hate ? ^irely there was nothing in the sweet- voiced, 
gentle girl, with her eyes full of admiration, her smiling 
lips, her eager, happy recognition, to call forth such 
emotions. There was no need now of the Duchess 
assuming the character she wished to represent; it was 
there clearly enough — the Nemesis stood before him, 
a personation of vindictive scorn and revenge. 

Suddenly Lisa stopped, as though a cold hand had 
been laid upon her, for her eyes met those of the 
Duchess, and her words of eager delight seemed to 
freeze on her lips. Turning to her father, who stood 
behind her, pale and troubled, she looked appealingly 
from one to the other, as though she would ask some 
explanation of this singular scene. 

Then the Duchess, seeming to remember where she 
was, and becoming conscious that her angry look had 
attracted the girl’s attention, made an effort to recover 
herself, and said, in a voice of forced calmness, “You 
have grown into a charming young woman, and I am 
sure you must be very good and a great comfort to 
your father.” 

Lisa made no reply to this formal speech, but stood, 
silent and alarmed, twisting the rosary around her fin- 
gers. 


10 * 


226 


A DISGOVEET. 


For a moment neither of the three spoke. Then tlie 
Duchess, with an impetuous movement, turned to Hugo 
and said : Is your daughter like her mother ? ” 

The hunchback started as though he had received a 
blow, and shivered slightly, then, without looking up, 
he replied; She is fairer, Signora.” 

“ There is no resemblance to you in her face,” con- 
tinued the Duchess, with a look of strange scrutiny. 

“ Ho, none whatever,” said Hugo in a low tone, with 
his eyes still fixed on the floor. ‘‘ How could one like 
her resemble such an ill-favored being as I am ? ” 

Oh, papa, why do you speak so ? It hurts me ; I am 
unhappy here. Pray let me go to my room,” cried Lisa, 
turning suddenly from the Duchess, and going close to 
her father. 

“ There is something in this air that suffocates me. 
Open the door. Signor Hugo ; call my servant, and I 
will go,” said the Duchess, rising hastily. “ 1 will in- 
form you when I can sit again,” and without glancing 
at Lisa, she bowed coldly to the hunchback and left the 
studio. 

“ Oh, papa, I am afraid of her,” cried the trembling 
girl, clinging to her father as the door closed upon the 
Duchess. “ Did you see how she looked at me ? Her 
eyes were like flames of fire.” 

“ Hush, my child ; your timidity made you imagine 
that,” said Hugo, soothing her gently. “ She is a great 


A DZSOOVmr. 


lady, and very cold and proud, that is all, and my little 
Lisa is not accustomed to the manners of such as she.” 

‘‘But she was so gentle and kind to me in the church 
■when she gave me the rosary.” 

“ You were but a child then, and cannot well re- 
member. Now, go to your room and think no more of 
it. When you know her better you will love and rev- 
erence her as I do.” 

“ Never ! papa ; 1 shall never love her, because I fear 
her,” returned the girl, going away slowly and sadly. 

Hugo stood still w^here his daughter had left him in 
deep and painful thought, his lips compressed, his 
eyes fixed on the floor. Suddenly he stooped and picked 
up something. It was a folded slip of paper. He 
opened it and read : 

I love you, and I must see you. To-morrow, at Ave Maria, 
I will be in the Church of San Marco, and I shall look for you in 
the Chapel of the Sacrament.” 

With a groan of agony he staggered back against 
the wall, and pressing his hands to his forehead he 
cried : “ My God ! my God ! Has she deceived me, 

has my child deceived me ? ” 


228 


A MYSTERY. 


CHAPTER XV. 

A MYSTERY. 

IGXOEA PI A sat in her little room, knitting, 
and thinking of the Duchess of Castellara. 
She had opened the door to let her out, and 
her manner was that of one quite unnerved. What 
could have happened in the studio to disturb her 
to such a degree ? Had her eccentric master said some- 
thing to offend the great lady ? He was so peculiar, 
so moody, at times so sullen and disagreeable, though 
none knew of his genuine kindness of heart, his self- 
denial and patience, as well as she did, yet often and 
often she was fretted and unhappy herself at his un- 
gracious manner. And only the day before he had 
sent Lisa weeping to her room, and the poor girl had 
mourned herself almost ill because her father was 
angered at her without any apparent cause. AVhat 
could ail him lately ? His prosperity, his good fortune, 
instead of making him happy, seemed to have soured 
and annoyed him. 

A rich Russian noble had offered him a fortune for 
a statue ; and now the Duchess of Castellara, the 
great lady whose slightest glance was a favor, had 



A MFSTmr. 


229 


come to him to sit for a ritratto^ liad spoken to him in 
the kindest manner, as she had heard the day before 
when she opened the door for her, and after one sit- 
ting, had gone away in a state of strange excitement. 
What could it all mean ? 

While she was thinking this over, the door suddenly 
opened and Hugo entered from the studio. At the 
first glance Signora Pia cried out : “ Why, Signore, 
what is the matter, are you ill ? 

His face was white and drawn, his whole body 
trembling convulsively, and his eyes wild and red 
like those of an angry animal. He held a slip of 
paper in his hand, which he looked at in a blind sort of 
way, as though he could not read the characters, which 
were legible enough, the clear fiowing lines of a man’s 
writing. 

“ Have you ever seen this before ? ” he cried savage- * 
ly, thrusting the paper into her hand. 

Signora Pia put on her glasses and looked it over in 
a bewildered way, scarcely understanding its meaning. 

‘‘ No, Signore,” she said, at length, “ I never saw 
this before. What does it mean ? ” 

‘‘Woman, are you telling me a falsehood ? ” shouted 
Hugo, his angry face uplifted, more than usual, and 
his eyes glaring with rage. 

“ A falsehood. Signore ! Why should I tell you a 
falsehood ? ” returned Signora Pia calmly, though in- 


230 


A MYSTERY. 


M^ardly she trembled with fear. “ I do not know in 
the least what this paper means, and I have never seen 
it before, as sure as the Holy Yirgin hears me.” 

“ How came it here, then ? How came it on the 
floor of my studio, where I just found it? ” 

I know not. Signore,” replied the woman, unflinch- 
ingly. 

‘‘ Has any one ever been here during my absence ? ” 

‘‘ Ho one, excepting the Kussian noble, who waited 
for you a moment yesterday.” 

“ Did he see Lisa ? ” 

“ Certainly not. Signore ; the child was sleeping in 
her own room.” 

“ Are you sure of that ? ” 

“ Quite sure. I went to her directly he was gone. 
She was lying on her sofa, her face covered, and fast 
asleep.” 

“ Why did you let him in during my absence ? Have 
I not told you repeatedly never to allow any one to enter 
when I was away ? ” 

“ Yes, Signore, and I have always obeyed you. I 
thought you were in your studio when I opened the 
door for him.” 

“ In the future be more careful. The child might 
have been there alone. Never let such a thing happen 
again. But this letter, where did it come from, how 
did it get on my floor, who does it belong to ? ” 


A MTSTEBT. 


231 


“ Might not the Duchess of Castellara have dropped 
it, Signore ? She has just left.” 

“ True, I never thought of that,” said Hugo, eagerly 
seizing the idea, and appearing to find some comfort 
from it. “ Yes, it may have been addressed to her, and 
she may have dropped it accidentally. It is a gentle- 
man’s writing. The paper is evidently a leaf torn 
from a pocket-book, and it has a subtle odor about it, 
such as the wealthy use.” 

Then he read it again thoughtfully and slowly, 
seeming to weigh the words well. After a moment he 
looked up and asked quite calmly ; ‘‘ Have you been 
lately to San Marco with Lisa ? ” 

“ Not very lately, I think. Let me see, it has been 
more than a week since we were there.” 

‘‘Who proposed going to San Marco, you or the 
Signorina ? ” 

“ I did. I usually go there to Yespers, because it is 
near.” 

“ In which chapel did you pray ? ” 

“ I do not just remember, but I think it was the 
Chapel of the Sacrament.” 

Hugo turned pale again, and again the lurid fire 
burned in his eyes. “ Was it Lisa’s wish to pray there 
in preference to the other altars ? ” 

“ I think not. I believe it was only accidental our 
going into that chapel.” 


232 


A MYSTERY. 


Was any one there besides yourselves ? ” 

“ No, Signore, we were quite alone. It was nearly 
dark, and the chapel was empty.” 

“ You are certain of that — there was no one in the 
chapel ? ” 

“ Ah, now I remember, a man entered a moment, 
and knelt down and repeated 2^. pater noster or two.” 

Hugo started and looked at her keenly. 

“ Did he remain long ? ” 

“ Only a moment.” 

“Was he a young man ? ” 

“ I did not notice him, for I was engaged with my 
prayers, but now I think of it I believe he was old. 
Yes, I believe his hair was white.” 

“ Did Lisa appear to notice him ? ” 

“ She, Signore ? No, indeed. I remember how devout 
the dear child was. She never took her eyes from the 
face of the Saviour. I doubt if she knew whether any 
one came in or went out.” 

“And you are sure no communication passed be- 
tween them, that she did not linger, or speak to this 
man ? ” 

“ As sure as I am that I live ; but if you doubt me, 
Signore ” . • 

“Woman, if I thought you would deceive me, I 
would tear your heart out ! ” hissed Hugo, coming close 
to her and grasping her arm. “ I have trusted you 


A MYSTERY. 


233 


and left my child in your care without fear; if you 
have deceived me and harm comes to her, my ven- 
geance will be terrible.” 

“ If you think that of me, Signore, I had better leave 
you at once,” said Signora Pia, drawing away with fear 
from his grasp. “ After all these years, it is hard to 
be treated with suspicion.” 

There was dignity in her manner and truth in her 
voice ; and Hugo, in spite of his anger, was somewhat 
assured. “Pardon me,” he said, in a calmer tone, 
“ if I have wronged you, if I have done you an inj ns- 
tice ; but this mystery maddens me, and renders self- 
control almost impossible.” 

“ Signore, you do the child a wrong as well as my- 
self. I would stake my life on her innocence, and 
that she knows no more of this letter than I do.” 

“ You believe that firmly, do you ? You believe 
this never was addressed to her ? ” 

“ Certainly ; who would write such nonsense to a 
child?” 

“You are a woman. Signora, and I thought she 
might have made a confidant of you,” continued the 
hunchback, looking down dejectedly. “ I thought she 
might open her heart to you when she would not to me.” 

“ She has nothing to confide ; her heart is as clear 
and open as the heavens ; dear child, I dare say she 
has never thought of love, let alone receiving such a 


234 


A MYSTERY. 


wicked, silly letter as that. Why, if she had, she could 
not have kept it to herself, she would have told you of 
it at once.” 

“ But why has she seemed so sad and absent-minded 
of late ? I feared something was wrong before I found 
this.” 

“It was but a young girl’s mood. She is happy 
enough now. Only this morning she told me if she 
had wings she could fly, her heart was so light.” 

Hugo’s face softened, and the tears came into his 
eyes, as he said : “ Your words give me comfort, and 
relieve my heart of a terrible load. I will trust the 
child. I will not think that she could deceive me. 
Say nothing to her about this letter, nothing about our 
conversation. I would not make her unhappy by ap- 
pearing to suspect her.” And after glancing at the 
paper again, he folded it and put it in an inner pocket 
with a sigh of relief, as though he intended to dismiss 
the subject. 

After that, several days passed away without any- 
thing taking place to disturb the peace of the humble 
household of the artist. Lisa, with a face all sunshine, 
posed for the Hebe, and the hunchback went on rapidly 
with his work, now that his mind was at ease, and his 
confidence in his child restored. 

One day, the Duchess came to sit again for the 
Hemesis, and when she entered Hugo felt as though 


A MYSTERY. 


235 


a cold blast had entered with her, for she did not seem 
in the least like the lady whose memory he had wor- 
shipped all these years. She was no longer the Angel 
of the Church; she was rather a I^emesis than the 
divinely compassionate being who had won his soul 
from its dark intention. JN^o sooner had she come into 
his presence than he began to feel ill at ease and fear- 
ful. The glance of her clear, cold eye ohilled him. 
The look of scorn about her mouth and dilated nostrils 
made him shiver. What was the power, the peculiar 
fascination she exercised over him? Perhaps it was 
the genius of the artist imbued with the spirit of his 
subject — his soul in full harmony with his work, her 
impersonation in rapport with his intention. He could 
not describe nor understand the strange emotions that 
seemed to overwhelm him when in her presence. Yet, 
in spite of all, the work grew into fearful perfection 
under his hand, and the plastic clay was fast changing 
into the terrible goddess of revenge. 

The Duchess seemed to feel the deepest interest in 
the statue, coming often and sitting patiently, as long 
as the artist desired her to. They scarcely ever spoke 
toirether, for the work demanded all their attention. 
The subject of Lisa seemed to be forgotten by her, for 
she never mentioned the girl nor referred in any way 
to their meeting, and the unpleasant impression each 
had made on the other. 


236 


A MFSTBUr. 


One day, coming in late, she glanced around the 
studio, and said : “ Are there violets here ? I smell a 
subtle odor of violets.” 

“ There are none here. Signora,” Hugo replied, as 
he wheeled his work into position ; “ but I suppose it 
is the fragrance of them clinging about my clothes. I 
bought a bunch for Lisa when I was out. The child is 
very fond of them, and I like to gratify her when I 
can.” 

The Duchess made no reply, but took her place, 
sterner, paler, and more haughty than usual. That 
day, when she was about leaving, Hugo thought of the 
letter that he had found on the floor and which he had 
kept concealed ever since, and an irresistible desire to 
know if it belonged to her took possession of him. 

Taking it from its hiding-place and handing it 
timidly to her, he said, “ I found this paper. Duchess, 
one day aftei- you had gone, near the place where you 
were sitting. Does it belong to you ?”• 

She took it and unfolded it carelessly, looked at it 
with dilated eyes, reading it over and over, her face 
paler than the Hemesis before her, and then, with 
flashing scorn, she turned upon the trembling Hugo, and 
cried, “ How dare you think that it belonged to me ? ” 

“ Pardon me. Signora, 1 did not mean to offend you. 
I only thought that you might know to whom it was 
addressed, and I had a reason for wishing ” 


A MYSTERY. 


237 


“I do know,” interrupted the Duchess, harshly; 
“ but I would have you understand that it was not in- 
tended for my eye ; however, I am acquainted with the 
writer, and I will return it. Say nothing about it. It 
was carelessly lost, but it will he better kept now.” 

“ She is angry because she thinks I read it,” said 
Hugo to himself, after she went away. “ Is it possi- 
ble that these noble, high-born ladies have love affairs, 
such as an honest girl of the people would scorn to 
engage in ? Had the letter not belonged to her she 
would scarcely have been so angry at my having seen 
it. If it were not that my heart is at rest concerning 
Lisa, I should regret having returned it to her, for she 
would never have known that she lost it here, and I 
should not have incurred her displeasure by finding it.” 

More than a month passed away after Hugo had re- 
turned the letter to the Duchess and nothing of impor- 
tance had transpired to disturb his serenity. He was 
happy again, that is, as happy as he could be with a 
vague fear hanging over him, that never left him quite 
at rest. Lisa was contented and cheerful ; there were 
no more complaints of her dreary life; she seemed 
now to love the vast space within the four walls of the 
studio better than any other spot, for Signora Pia often 
said that formerly, when her father was absent, she had 
liked to come and sit with her in the sunshine on the 
little loggia^ but now she preferred to remain in the 


238 


A MYSTEBY. 


studio alone with her books, and she did not disturb 
the child, liking to see her happy in her own way. 

One day, Hugo had been out; being late in Decem- 
ber the days were short, and it was near dark when he 
reached the Yia San Gallo. As he turned into the 
street he was surprised to see standing, not far from his 
door, an elegant equipage, whose livery he immediately 
recognized as that of the Duchess of Castellara. What 
could have brought her to his house at that hour, and 
especially as she had been there in the morning? 
While the hunchback was wondering over this strange 
incident a man, closely wrapped in a cloak, came out of 
the door that led into his own court, and hurried by 
him without a glance or sign of recognition. Ap- 
proaching the carriage where the driver and footman 
sat like statues, he made a sign which was just visible 
to Hugo in the gathering darkness, and then went on 
swiftly toward the piazza San Marco, where he was 
soon joined by the carriage, into which the hunch- 
back, who had followed after him in the shadow of 
the buildings, saw him enter and drive rapidly away. 

Bewildered with surprise, Hugo turned and retraced 
his steps toward his house, thinking that there he 
would find an explanation of the mystery. 

Scarcely had he touched the bell-cord, when Signora 
Pia answered his summons with a pale and troubled 
face. 


A MYSTERY, 


239 


“ Have yon just now returned, Signor Hugo ? ” she 
asked. 

“But this moment,” he replied. “Who has been 
liere ? ” 

“ That is just what I wish to ask you,” returned the 
woman, dropping her voice to a confidential whisper. 

“ Wliat can you mean ? Explain yourself,” cried 
Hugo excitedly. 

“ I will. Signore, if you can listen calmly to what I 
have to say, and not be hasty in your judgment.” 

“ Go on, for Heaven’s sake, and I will be as quiet as 
you wish.” 

“ During most of the time that you were absent I 
was working in my room, and at last finishing what 
I had to do, and supposing you had not returned, I 
thought I would go and sit with the Signorina a little 
while in the studio. As I had my hand on the door 
and was about to enter I heard some one talking with- 
in — in a low voice, it is true, but loud enough for me 
to know that a man was speaking, and thinking that 
you had come back and let yourself in, as you some- 
'times do, I went away, not wishing to disturb you. 
After a little while I heard the outer door close softly, 
and supposing you had gone out again, I went the 
second time to the studio, and found it empty. This 
surprised me, so I knocked on the Signorina’s door to 
see if she was in her room. She was there, and bade 


240 


A MYSTERY. 


me enter, saying that she was but just awakened, al- 
though she did not seem in the least like one aroused 
from sleep.” 

“ Go on. What else have you to say ? ” said Hugo, 
in a suppressed voice, the fire of anger burning in 
his eyes, and his face drawn and ghastly in its pallor. 

“ Perhaps I had better leave you to discover who was 
with her. I asked the child no questions, I could not 
bear to ; but I am faithful to you. Signore, and I am 
faithful to Lisa, therefore I tell you of this.” 

“ You mean to say that, during my absence, she re- 
ceived a visitor in the studio ? ” 

“ I fear so, for some one was there with her and you 
say it was not yourself. I know not who it was, but I 
heard a man’s voice distinctly talking with her.” 

“ Have you any suspicion who it was ? ” 

Ho, but this may be a clue to lead to the right per- 
son. When I left the Signorina’s chamber, I went to 
the outer door to see if I could discover anything, and 
on the landing I found this,” said Signora Pia, draw- 
ing a handkerchief from her pocket and putting it in 
Hugo’s hand. 

The hunchback turned it over and examined it. 
It was' a gentleman’s handkerchief of fine lawn, with 
a coronet and coat-of-arms embroidered in the corner. 
“ Here is a mystery,” he said, and I must unravel it. 
Send the Signorina to me.” 


A MT8TEET. 


241 


A moment after Lisa entered the studio a little 
hesitatingly, and going to her father she kissed him as 
usual. The hunchback returned her embrace and then 
said kindly : 

‘‘ My child, was the Duchess of Castellara here dur- 
ing my absence ? ” 

“ No, papa.” 

“ Was any one here ? ” 

“ I do not know. Signora Pia will tell you if she 
opened the door for any one.” 

“ Then you saw no one during my absence ? ” 

“ Who could I see, papa ? ” 

“ Answer my direct question with a direct answer.” 

She turned frightfully pale, but her voice never 
wavered as she replied : “ Papa, once before you ques- 
tioned and suspected me, and I told you that you must 
trust me. I tell you the same now. I cannot answer 
you ; there is something in my heart that will not allow 
me to.” 

“ Lisa, my child, think what you are saying,” cried 
Hugo, in a broken voice. “ Do not refuse me your 
confidence.” 

“ Confidence must be given voluntarjly, not forced, 
papa. I beg that you will not make me unhappy again.” 

“ Then you have nothing to tell me.” 

“ Nothing, papa.” 

“ Leave me, then. I wish to be alone.” With a heart- 
11 


242 


A MYSTBEY. 


broken, suppressed sob, and a look of deep affection, Lisa 
turned away from her father, and went back to the 
silence of her own room. From that moment there was 
a gulf between them, that no after-love or trust could 
bridge over. 

When he was alone again, Hugo went to his desk 
and took out a card. It was the card of the Duchess of 
Castellara, on which she had made a memoranda of the 
hour for a sitting, and in the corner was the ducal 
coronet and coat-of-arms. Spreading the handkerchief 
on the table, he compared the card and embroidered 
monogram and found them to be precisely the same, 
and slowly and surely the tangled skein unravelled 
before his mind’s eye. 

“ I see it all plainly — blind, weak, deluded fool that I 
have been. The girl has a lover, and it is the Duke of 
Castellara. The Duchess has discovered* it, and that 
accounts for her strange conduct. The letter that I 
picked up on the floor was written to Lisa by the 
Duke ; she recognized his handwriting, and that was 
the cause of her pallor, her rage, but she was too proud 
to betray her husband to me. He was the white-haired 
man who knelt^by her in the Chapel of the Sacrament. 
It was he who passed me to-day at my very door, and 
recognizing me, dared not enter his carriage in my 
sight. Oh ! had I known it, had 1 dreamed that he w^as 
my enemy, I would have felled him to the earth and 


COUNT VALDIMEN8 DISAPPOINTMENT. 243 

trampled him in the dust ; my arm would have been 
like a bar of steel to have struck in her defence. But I 
let him pass me, I let him escape. Another time he will 
not be so fortunate. He shall taste the revenge of the 
despised hunchback. Oh ! my Lisa ; my child ! and I 
trusted you and loved you so, and thought you so pure 
and innocent, and you must be deeper and more de- 
ceitful than any other living being to hide this from 
me with such care. But I forgive you, and I will save 
you in spite of yourself. You shall live to know the 
strength of my love for you.” 


CHAPTER XYI. 

COUNT VALDIMEr’s DISAPPOINTMENT. 

OE. several days Count Yaldimer waited in 
vain for a signal from Lisa. Something 
must have happened. The hunchback had 
either discovered their clandestine meetings, or the girl 
was ill, for the curtain remained closed, and there was 
no sign of life from the little window over the loggia. 
Impatient and restless, Hordiskoff went to the studio, 
hoping by chance to meet Lisa, or to hear something from 
her, but his visits were unsuccessful ; he found Hugo 



244 : COUNT VALDIMETTS DISAPPOINTMENT. 


alone, and apparently absorbed, heart and sonl, in his 
work, though his face looked worn and sad, and his 
manner was that of one engaged in a terrible conflict 
with himself. Every glance, every movement showed 
that he was trying to suppress some passion, some 
internal Are of anguish that was consuming him while 
it smouldered. 

ISTordiskoff felt a sort of pity for the wretched man, 
and began to think that perhaps he was in some way 
to blame for it. If he had discovered his daughter’s 
deception, of course it would render him most un- 
happy ; but if he had, would the hunchback meet him 
in his usual calm and indifferent way, without anger 
or remark ? It was not reasonable to suppose so, for 
such an impulsive, uncontrollable nature would surely 
burst forth in passionate reproaches and sharp recrimi- 
nation. There was a mystery that the Count could not 
understand, and Lisa’s persistent silence only aggra- 
vated his love and desire to see her. He dare not ask 
after her, he dare not attempt any of the usual means 
of bribery with Signora Pia, for he at once understood 
that the faithful woman was not to be bought, and he 
dare not attempt to communicate with the girl by 
letter. 

At last, urged on to desperation by a passion that he 
could not control, he had resource to Berto, the copy- 
ist, confessing to him his love for the beautiful Lisa, 


COUNT VALDIMER8 DISAPPOINTMENT. 246 

his present embarrassment, his impatience and desire 
to see her by some means, and promising the poor 
artist a handsome reward if he would bring about a 
meeting in any way that he could arrange. 

Berto was not a bad man ; he was only weak, and 
very poor, and therefore easily induced to undertake 
the dishonorable task. But for awhile he seemed no 
more successful than the Count had been. He had 
made various excuses to call at Hugo’s studio, and had 
lingered around the house in the Yia San Gallo as 
long as he could without attracting attention, and all 
he had succeeded in learning was, that the hunchback 
rarely left his house, and that the girl was kept almost 
a prisoner in her own room, never being allowed to 
remain a moment alone, and never going out except to 
Mass or Yespers, and then always in company with 
her father or Signora Pia, who was as vigilant and 
alert as Hugo himself. 

Berto had tried, by following and watching closely, 
to find some opportunity of slipping a note into Lisa’s 
hand, but all in vain ; for the hunchback was not to 
be taken in any clumsy net, and the old woman’s eyes 
were everywhere at once. Count Yaldimer was 
wretched when he was informed that the poor girl 
looked pale and ill, and was evidently sulfering deeply 
from her close imprisonment and her desire to see him. 

“Poor child,” he thought; “poor, gentle, lovely 


246 COUNT VALDIMENS DISAPPOINTMENT. 

child ! This hideous wretch will kill her by his severe 
treatment ; and if I love her why should I leave her in 
his power ? There can certainly be nothing wrong in 
providing her with some means of escaping from his 
tyranny.’’ 

Pondering over this a great deal, he at last resolved, 
with the aid of Berto, to take the girl away from her 
father by force if he could not compass it by any other 
means ; for he never doubted but what Lisa would 
welcome any deliverance from her hateful bondage. 

“ It will be very easy to arrange,” said Berto, in ojie 
of his consultations with Hordiskoff, for, as the young 
Count grew more and more impatient, the poor artist 
grew more greedy for the gold that was to be his 
reward, and was now ready to push matters to any 
extreme, if he might but win a price equal to his 
service. 

“Not as easy as you think,” returned Count Yaldi- 
mer, impatiently, for he was weary with this constant 
disappointment of his hopes. “ One cannot storm the 
castle and bear the lady off as he could in feudal times. 
If so, she would not long be in the power of that old 
monster, her father.” 

“ But what strength of arms cannot accomplish, wit 
and cunning can. You leave it to me, and I will find 
means to bring her to you.” 

“Without injuring or alarming the poor child, re- 


COUNT VALDIMER'8 DISAPPOINTMENT. 247 


member ; for I will not have a hair of her head 
harmed.” 

“ Certainly, Signore. I am not-a cruel man, and I 
would not undertake anything that would make another 
human being suffer ; but I know the girl will be as 
ready to come as I shall be to bring her, and my plan 
is this : I have discovered ihoAonfestas she goes to San 
Lorenzo to Yespers, and sometimes she is alone with 
her woman, whom Hugo trusts as he does himself. 
They always pass the Yia Ginori, which is a narrow, 
lonely street, and at Ave Maria quite deserted. Now 
I shall station a carriage there with a trusty driver, 
and as they enter the sti-eet I shall arrange with a 
friend to take Signora Pia by the arm, and, if neces- 
sary, cover her mouth with his hand, while I lead the 
young lady to the carriage, whispering to her, of 
course, that you are waiting for her, which wdll pre- 
vent any alarm on her part, and then when I have her 
safely inside, the driver can cut up his horses and 
gallop off, while my friend allows Signora Pia to go 
about hof business.” 

“ Yery simple and feasible, as you present it, but 
perhaps not quite as easy of execution as you think ; 
however, I make no objection, so that you bring the girl 
to a place that I will designate to you ; only remember, 
there is to be no violence, no force ; if she objects, or 
resists, you are at once to abandon your plan.” 


248 COUNT VALDIMENS DISAPPOINTMENT. 

“She will not, Signore. What woman in her senses 
would prefer imprisonment with such a jailor as her 
father, to freedom with the man she loves ? Oh, leave 
it all to me, and I will bring her to you before another 
week is over.” 

Signora Pia and Lisa were kneeling together in a 
-quiet, unfrequented chapel in San Lorenzo. The girl 
was very pale and sad, and as she prayed earnestly tlie 
tears welled up into her lovely eyes and rolled down 
her cheeks like drops of crystal dew on the leaf of a 
rose, her sweet mouth trembled, and the words she ut- 
tered seemed more a suppressed sob than a prayer. 
Life had seemed hard to the poor child, since she had 
incurred her father’s just anger and lost her lover’s 
society at the same time. For several weeks she had 
neither seen nor heard from Yaldimer, and her young 
heart was. sick with disappointment. She no longer 
dared to summon him to the studio, for her father was 
scarcely ever absent, and if he w^as. Signora Pia 
watched in his stead, and she was as severe and as in- 
vulnerable as a rock. There was no way that she could 
see him, and as the days went on, hope left her and de- 
spair tilled its vacant place. Instead of being merry 
and light-hearted, as she once was, she wept most of 
the time alone in her room, or prayed to God to restore 
her lover to her. 

She never asked to go out, never expressed any wish 


COUNT VALDIMEN8 DISAPPOINTMENT. 249 


on any subject; showed no interest in anything beyond 
the walls of their home ; avoided her father, if she could, 
and if she was obliged to be in his presence, remained, 
silent and absorbed, neither giving nor seeking confi- 
dence. And the poor hunchback watched her troubled 
face with mute sorrow, feeling that the time had come 
when he had no power to comfort her, no means of 
making her happy, and no chance of winning her love 
and trust, since he must act the part of a cruel, pitiless 
jailor. 

Signora Pia often took her' to church from a pious 
sense of duty, feeling that religion might soften the 
girl’s heart and bring her back to a sense of her duty ; 
but she watched her so closely, and treated her with 
such rigorous severity, that it was more a pain than a 
pleasure to leave the shelter of her own room. 

While the unhappy girl knelt and prayed in the 
Chapel- of San Lorenzo, unconscious that any eye but 
God’s was upon her, three men were watching her from 
dinerent points of view. Two were Berto and his 
companion, waiting, like birds of prey, to pounce upon 
a timid, trembling dove; the third was a dark, hand- 
some man, about thirty-six years of age, with gentle 
eyes, noble features, and a grave, sweet smile, that 
seemed the expression of a happy, generous nature. 
He had been praying devoutly at one of the altars, and 

had risen from his knees, and was about to leave the 
11 ^ 


250 COUNT VALDIMER'S DISAPPOINTMENT. 


church when the lovely, sorrowful face of Lisa attracted 
his attention ; stepping behind a pillar, that he might 
watch her without being observed, he continued to gaze 
on her with respectful admiration ; her youth, beauty, 
and sorrow ; her maidenly, modest bearing ; her slender 
white hands clasped so devoutly ; the graceful turn of 
her head; her simple, neat garments, all pleased his 
refined and pure taste. 

“ She is no common girl,” he thought, “ and yet she 
cannot be a noble, or she would not be here at this 
hour with only a woman servant. They are evidently 
of the better middle class ; the woman is most respect- 
able, the girl is adorable and of different appearance 
and manner; they cannot be mother and daughter, 
there is nothing in common about them ; and yet the 
elder seems not to be a servant. 1 am interested, and 
I will watch them, though it is an extraordinary thing 
for me to do. Fancy a man of my age and serious 
habits staring at a pretty girl from behind a pillar like 
a love-lorn rustic.” 

At length Signora Pia and Lisa finished their devo- 
tions, and rose to leave the church, the girl with down- 
cast eyes and sad, abstracted air, the woman glancing 
constantly right and left, to see if the foe were in the 
field, or the way clear for them to pass out. The scru- 
tiny seemed to satisfy her, for no one was in sight but 
the scattered worshippers intent on their prayers, so, 


COUNT VALDIMEWS DISAPPOINTMENT. 251 

drawing the girl’s arm within hers, she walked toward 
the door with a firm, resolute step. 

Scarcely had they entered the vestibule, when Berto 
and his companion stepped from their concealment 
behind a confessional and followed the women at a 
respectful distance, speaking in confidential tones from 
time to time. The gentleman behind the pillar noticed 
this, and being already interested in the lovely girl, he 
was determined to see what was the intention of the 
two men. 

As Signora Pia and Lisa entered the Yia Ginori, 
walking quickly, for it was nearly dark, Berto and his 
companion were close behind them, although they 
knew it not ; and at a little distance, with his eyes 
fixed on the graceful girl, followed the tall, lithe form 
of the man who had watched them from behind the 
pillar in the church. 

A carriage was drawn close up to a wall, and a 
driver seemed to ‘be nodding on the seat, while the 
horses stamped the pavement restlessly, as though they 
were tired of waiting. When the party of four came 
opposite the vehicle, one of the men suddenly sprang 
forward, and seizing the elder w^oman, he placed his 
hand over her mouth and held her firmly, while the 
other put his arm around the young girl and turned 
her toward the carriage. It was but the work of an 
instant, and had seemed simple enough, when Berto 


252 COUNT VALDIMER8 DISAPPOINTMENT 

had recounted his plan to Yaldimer, but he had not 
expected any resistance on the part of the girl. How- 
ever, no sooner had Lisa seen the attack on Signora 
Pia, and felt the man’s arm about her, than she strug- 
gled violently, and uttered a piercing shriek. 

It was in vain for Berto, then, to inform her that 
Count Yaldimer was waiting for her, that no harm 
was intended, and a dozen other stupid assurances, for 
she was beside herself with fright, and did not distin- 
guish a word that he said to her, but continued to call 
piteously for help ; and he, anxious to silence her, and, 
in his excitement, quite forgetting the Count’s injunc- 
tion that no violence sliould be used, still insisted upon 
forcing the terrified girl toward the carriage, in spite 
of her struggles and screams. 

At that moment, and just as Berto was about to suc- 
ceed in forcing Lisa into the carriage, a vigorous blow 
from a strong hand sent him reeling backward, and, to 
his astonishment, a third party appeared on the scene, 
whose opposition he had not counted upon. Seeing that 
his cause was lost, and that a further struggle was use- 
less, he called to his companion, who released the 
trembling Signora Pia, and with him sprang into the 
carriage, and was driven away before the rescuer had 
an opportunity of recognizing or detaining them. 

When Lisa knew that she was safe, her first thought 
was of Yaldimer, for, according to all laws of romance, 


COUNT VALDIMEB'^S DISAPPOINTMENT. 253 

it should have been her lover that rescued her from 
peril; but, instead of the fair-haired Kussian, she saw 
before her an entire stranger, with a tall, straight 
figure, and a dark face, that in the gathering twilight 
looked kindly and protectingly on her. 

His arm was around her, and she was leaning against 
him, trembling like a reed smitten by a strong wind ; 
and as he held her, he could feel her heart beating, 
and every fibre of her being throbbing with fear. She 
could not speak for some moments, but clung to him, 
sobbing and shaking, while he soothed her gently, 
smoothing her golden hair with a tender and reverent 
touch. 

“ Poor child, do not fear,” he said in a clear, pleas- 
ant voice. You are safe now, for the villains have 
fled, and I will protect you until you reach your home.” 

At that moment Signora Pia, who had recovered a 
little from her terror and surprise on seeing her young 
mistress supported by a stranger, and a man, came for- 
ward as quickly as her trembling limbs would allow 
her to, and putting her arm around the girl, she said : 

Thank you. Signore. Though I scarce know what 
has happened, yet I perceive that you have saved us 
from danger. May God reward you for your goodness 
to two defenceless women.” 

“ Oh, Signora Pia, what did it all mean ? ” cried the 
poor girl, shivering and looking around. 


254 COUNT VALDIMER8 DISAPPOINTMENT 


“ Be calm, Signorina ; it is over now, and this gen- 
tleman will not leave us until we are safelj home.” 

Lisa looked appealingly at her rescuer, who smiled 
confidently and replied : “ Have no more fear. You are 
safe. But tell me where you live, for if it is far you 
are much too weak and shaken to walk.” 

“It is not far,” returned the girl ; we live in the 
Yia San Gallo,” 

“ Her father is Signor Hugo, the artist,” said Sig- 
nora Pia with some pride. 

“ My poor father, how thankful I am that he was 
spared this scene ! The shock would have killed him.” 

“ Will you take my arm, Signorina ? ” said the gentle- 
man, “ and we will turn toward your home. We shall 
not be likely to meet a carriage in this street, and I 
dare not leave you to seek one.” 

“ Oh ! no. Signore, pray do not leave us. I can walk 
very well now ; see, I scarcely tremble at all.” 

“ I think I can support the Signorina without your 
assistance, if you will kindly leave her to me,” said 
Signora Pia, a little doubtful whether she should allow 
her young mistress to take the arm of a stranger. 

“ My good woman, do not be uneasy,” replied the 
gentleman, with a pleasant smile. “ I will take care 
of your mistress^^for you have all you can do to walk 
steadily yourself. The fright has not left you with 
any too much strength.” 


COUNT VALDIMENS DISAPPOINTMENT. 255 

When they reached the door of Hugo’s house the 
stranger was about to leave them, but Lisa insisted that 
he should enter to receive her father’s thanks and to 
give a correct version of the adventure, which their 
terror at the time would not permit them to do. 

The hunchback was sitting alone in his studio when 
they entered. Signora Pia had opened the door with 
her key, and he had not heard them until they stood be- 
fore him. Looking up with a startled expression in his 
eyes, which suddenly turned to anger and surprise 
at seeing a stranger with them, he said harshly : 

“ It is time you returned ; 3"Our prayers take too much 
time, and I will not suffer this again.” 

“ Oh, papa, do not be angry. Oh, papa, listen to us,” 
cried Lisa, throwing herself into her father’s arms and 
bursting into tears. “This gentleman will tell you 
what has happened. And thank him, papa, for he has 
been so good to us.” 

Hugo looked from one to the other, bewildered, while 
he tried to soothe his daughter. 

“ What does this all mean. Signore ? Will you be 
good enough to explain ? ” 

“ Certainly,” said the stranger, gravely. “ It can be 
told in a few words, but it is a very serious matter. I 
was walking through the Yia Ginori, when I came 
upon two men who were about to abduct your 
daughter. Qne of them had nearly succeeded in fore- 


256 COUNT VALDIMENS DISAPPOINTMENT. 


ing her into a carriage, when her loud screams reached 
iny ears. I came upon the scene, and of course the 
villains fled ; that is all, but I beg that in the future 
you will not allow so young and lovely a girl to go to 
Yespers at this hour without a proper escort.” 

J)uring the brief and modest recital of the stranger, 
Hugo sat with his arm around his daughter motionless, 
like one stunned and deprived of all power. Then he 
put her away, and standing up, with an effort, he lifted 
his right hand to Heaven, and said impressively : “ I 
needed but this to nerve my arm for revenge. How 
the time has come, and the demon who has destroyed 
my peace of mind, brought contention and unhappi- 
ness into my home, shall reap the reward of his own 
deeds ; and my child, my innocent, unhappy child, 
shall be saved from further dan£:er.” 

Oh, papa ! ” cried Lisa, with a terror-stricken face. 

Do you know who did this ? ” 

“Yes, my child, I know who my enemy is,” re- 
turned Hugo, with an expressive look at the girl. 

“ Tell me, why did he do it ? Why did he wish to 
take me away ? ” and, overcome by the very thought of 
her danger, she covered her face and began weeping 
again. 

“ Poor child ! she is completely unnerved,” said the 
stranger, compassionately, “ and it is your first duty to 
calm and reassure her ; she seems to be entirely igno- 


COUNT VALDIMEN8 DISAPPOINTMENT. 267 


rant of ain^ reason for this attack. If you suspect or 
know the person guilty of this outrage, tell me his 
name, and I will see that he is punished by the laws of 
his country, which will be more sensible and effective 
than any personal vengeance.” 

‘‘Pardon me. Signore, but I am the best judge of 
that. I have a long score to settle with this person — 
wrongs that no law can redress, injuries that can only 
be wiped out with blood. I am deeply indebted to 
you for your interest in my child. You have saved 
her from a terrible fate, and henceforth my gratitude, 
my very life, all that I am or have, is laid at your feet ; 
but you must allow me to avenge my own wrongs in 
my own way. Now, tell us to whom we are indebted, 
so that my cliild may remember you in her prayers, 
and keep your memory green with her tears of grati- 
tude.” 

“ I am Count Enrico Altimonti,” said the gentle- 
man, in a husky voice, while his eyes filled with tears, 
for the words of the strange creature before him had 
moved him deeply. 

“ Count Enrico Altimonti,” repeated Hugo slowly. 
“ 1 know the name of Altimonti ; it was sacred to me 
for many years. I am glad to meet you now, and I 
would have a few words with you in private before 
you go. Lisa, my child, you may retire with Signora 
Pia.” 


258 COUNT VALDIMER'8 DISAPPOINTMENT, 


The young girl bowed low, looking at Enrico with 
gentle, grateful glances, and, murmuring again and 
again her thanks, she left the room, followed by his 
admiring, earnest gaze. 

AVhen they were alone, Hugo closed the door care- 
fully, and, laying his long, thin hand on the arm of 
Enrico, he said : “ I like your face, and I am sure I 
can trust you, and depend upon your kindness to 
advise me in my trouble. When I tell you who my 
enemy is, you will see that 1 have acted wisely in 
making a confidant of you. The man who has 
destroyed my happiness, who has taught my child to 
deceive me, who has won her love and confidence from 
me, and who has tried to rob me of her, is your 
cousin’s husband, the Duke of Castellara.” 

“ It is impossible 1 ” cried Enrico, with an expression 
of profound astonishment. “ Surely the Duke of Cas- 
tellara is incapable of such crimes ? ” 

“ One would think so, but nevertheless he is the vil- 
lain who would rob me of my only treasure, who would 
steal her from me. Oh, my God ! he would rob me 
of my child, the only thing I have on earth to love. 
It must not be ; he must not live to take her from 
me,” and Hugo looked wildly around, beating the air 
with his hands as though he were warding off an ap- 
i:)roaching danger. ‘‘ I say he must not live ; for if he 
escapes my vengeance he will accomj)lish my ruin, 


ENRICO FAILS AS A MEDIATOR. 


259 


and I shall be left alone and desolate. hTo ! no ! I 
cannot spare him, even though it costs me my soul’s 
salvation.” 


CHAPTER XYII. 

ENEICO FAILS AS A MEDIATOR. 

XRICO stood for some time looking at the 
li unhappy creature before him, silent from as- 
tonishment. Was it possible that his cousin’s 
husband, a man of his age and position, could be guilty 
of such an outrage on a young and unprotected girl ? 

Are you sure,” he said at length, “ that there is no 
mistake ? It seems incredible that the Duke of Castel- 
lara, who is no longer young, can be guilty of such an 
ignoble deed. What proofs have you that he is the 
man ? ” 

Then Hugo told him of the Duke’s mysterious visit 
to his studio during his absence, of his meeting him 
and seeing him enter his carriage, of finding the hand- 
kerchief at his very door, of the note and the appoint- 
ment in San Marco, of the anger and agitation of the 
Duchess when he, in his renewed confidence, had 
given the letter to her, believing it to have been hers, 
and of Lisa’s stubborn silence concerning the whole 
affair. 


260 


ENBICO FAILS AS A MEDIATOR 


‘‘But, my friend, you surely cannot imagine that so 
young and lovely a girl as your daughter can be inter- 
ested in a man who is old enough to be her father % It 
is absurd. If he were young and handsome, there 
would be some reason to suspect her.” 

“ It may be his wealth and position that have en- 
snared her, or he may be possessed with an evil power 
to win the confidence and love of women. He is a 
dangerous man. Oh ! I know well how vile and black 
his heart is, and how basely he has betrayed others. 
But I do not say that my child encourages his atten- 
tions or returns his passion ; no, on the contrary, I 
think she repulses him, and because of that he has re- 
sorted to this base means of gaining possession of her.” 

“ If she does not encourage him, if his attentious are 
obnoxious to her, why does she conceal the affair from 
you?” said Enrico. “ Would it not be more natural 
for her to confide in you and seek your protection 
against his persecution ? ” 

“ One would say so. Signore ; and there is the mys- 
tery which I have been trying to unravel. I have been 
patient, and would not resort to any extreme measures 
until every other means failed ; but this last outrage 
demands my speedy vengeance, and, by Heaven ! he 
shall be punished, even though he be the Duke of Cas- 
tellara.” 

Enrico talked a long while with the hunchback, 


ENRICO FAILS AS A MEDIATOR. 


261 


reasoning with him, endeavoring to cairn his terrible 
anger, and dissuade him from his fatal purpose, but in 
vain ; the strange, passionate nature of the man was 
fully aroused and only vengeance could satisfy his fury. 

After some kind advice regarding the young girl, 
and pi*omises of assistance, if his aid were needed. 
Count Altimonti took leave, with a firm determina- 
tion of discovering, if possible, the solution to the mys- 
tery, and of preventing a catastrophe which he feared 
was imminent. 

He first sought his cousin, the Duchess, whom he 
found alone, much to his satisfaction. She looked pale 
and sad ; and seemed absorbed in painful thought, 
from which she aroused herself to welcome him with a 
dreary smile and a cold clasp of the hand. 

“ You are a stranger, Enrico ; I have not seen you 
since the night of our conversation at the opera.” 

Ho, I believe not,” returned Enrico gravely. “ I 
have kept away from you purposely, for I sometimes 
fear 1 weary you with my advice, which I am sure is 
often unwelcome.” 

“You judge so, cousin, from my not acting upon it. 
But the time has not yet come when I can do as you 
wish. I have been thinking seriously of what you said, 
I have been trying to arrive at some determination re- 
specting Hordiskoff, but, for my life, I cannot resolve to 
give him up while I believe he entertains such an affec- 


262 


ENRICO FAILS AS A MEDIATOR. 


tion for me. If I could be convinced that he no longer 
loves me, that he loves another, then it would be an 
easy matter, for my pride would come to my aid, and 
I should despise him where I now love him. Say, 
Enrico, cannot you convince me that Yaldimer is un- 
faithful ? You wish to do me a kindness, you wish to 
save me from trouble and dishonor, you wish to see 
my heart at peace and free from these disastrous con- 
flicts. Now, you who know him so intimately, who 
are so well acquainted with his private life, tell me, do 
you suspect him of any secret intrigue, any preference 
for another ? ” 

“ What an absurd question to ask, Elena ! Why, all 
Florence knows him to be your most devoted admirer, 
your faithful friend, nay, almost your slave. It is an 
accepted fact that he sees nothing or nobody beyond 
the Duchess of Castellara, that he is waiting and serv- 
ing as patiently as that long-suffering individual we 
read of in the Bible ; for is it not nearly seven years 
since he put your welcome fetters about his neck, and 
bowed head and heart at your feet 

“ Pray, do not jest, Enrico. I am in earnest, and it 
shows that I still have some desire to save myself when 
I wish to be disenthralled from my own illusions, for, 
after all, my love for Yaldimer may be but an illusion. 
It would, indeed, be a mercy to me, if you could con- 
vince me that he is insincere and unfaithful.” 


ENRICO FAILS AS A MEDIATOR. 


263 


“ But I cannot, cousin, because I do not think so. I 
fear that he loves you too well.” 

Why do you say that you fear he loves me too 
well ? Has it really come to that ? Is his love for me 
a misfortune to him ? ” 

‘‘It is, Elena, for it may be the means of his death. 
I heard a few hours ago, from good authority, that 
Castellara intends to challenge him at once, and that I 
shall have to act as second for one or the other, or 
decline both, is also a certainty. You can understand 
my dilemma. Yaldimer is my friend, and Castel- 
lara is your husband. If I refuse one, I make him 
my enemy. If I refuse both, my position is no 
better. A catastrophe is inevitable unless you avert 
it.” 

“ I ? how can I avert it, pray ? ” cried the Duch'ess 
excitedly. “ What can I do ? ” 

“ I will tell you, Elena, and I entreat that in this 
case you will take my advice. Leave Florence early 
to-morrow for one of your country places — for Home, 
for Naples, or wherever you prefer, and take your 
husband with you.” 

“ Oh, Enrico ! you must be insane. I take Castel- 
lara with me ? Why, I have not spoken to him for 
months ; that is a ridiculous proposition.” 

“ By doing it you may save your husband’s life.” 

‘‘ I do not wish to save it, you know I do not,” she 


264 


ENRICO FAILS AS A MEDIATOR. 


cried passionately. I would not go out of my way 
in the least to save him from a dozen deaths.” 

“ Then, if not for Castellara, perhaps you will for 
Yaldirner. You know your husband’s reputation as a 
duellist. Who ever escaped from his hands with his 
life ? ” 

The Duchess turned deadly pale, but replied reso- 
lutely: “It is of no use, Enrico, to strive to work 
upon my feelings in this way. The crisis must come, 
sooner or later ; my running away from it would not 
avert it, it would only delay it ; I am resolved to see 
an end of this, for I am weary of this fierce confiict. 
You will think me a monster if I confess the truth to 
you ; nevertheless, I will. I prefer that this duel 
should take place. If Castellara falls, I am free. If 
Yaldirner falls, I shall be spared the pain of giving 
him up to another ; I would rather a thousand times 
see him dead before me than to lose his love, than to 
know him false ; and that may be my fate if he lives.” 

“ Oh ! Elena, how can you be so cruel, so obdurate ? 
Have you no pity on these two men, who will madly 
throw away their lives for you ? ” 

“ Enrico, I am now what I told you long ago I should 
become — a monster instead of a woman. Do not re- 
proach me, do not blame me. Leave me to myself, to 
my own torture, but remember that I was once pitiful 
and gentle, pure and good, until everything holy was 


ENRICO FAILS AS A MEDIATOR. 


2G5 


blighted by the deception and cruelty of others. I did 
not create this demon in me, and I cannot control it ; 
those who made me what I am must suffer the conse- 
quences of their sin.” 

Enrico did not reply, but sat in deep thought for a 
few moments. He was striving to find some means of 
saving Castellara from the hunchback’s vengeance, 
without exposing his baseness to his wife. Hetribution 
was following fast upon the steps of the hoary-headed 
sinner, and although he merited his punishment, yet 
Count Altimonti desired to save him, if possible. 

At length he said, gravely and gently: “My dear 
cousin, I sometimes think you show me the worst side 
of your nature, for I am sure you have a noble heart, 
and are capable of some self-sacrifice for others, if not 
for those who have wronged you, for the defenceless 
and innocent who have never in any way crossed your 
path. I appeal to you in behalf of a young, pure girl 
whom your husband is pursuing and hunting down. 
Only an hour ago 1 saved her from the vile hands of a 
ruffian who was about to abduct her. She has a father, 
a man of. most ungovernable temper, who knows that 
this minion was employed by Castellara, on whom he 
has sworn to be revenged. He has sworn to follow the 
Duke and. not to rest until he sees him dead at his feet. 
But this may be only the threat of a half-demented crea- 
ture, who is not aware of the power he has to contend 
13 


266 


ENRICO FAILS AS A MEDIATOR. 


against, and, in spite of liis f nry, the innocent, lovely 
girl may yet be stolen from him and ruined forever. 
Take her under your protection and she will be safe, 
for the Duke will not dare to persecute her in your 
presence.” 

“ Who is this unfortunate creature whose cause you 
wish me to espouse ? ” 

‘‘ She is the daughter of a poor, deformed artist.” 

“ What ! the daughter of Hugo, the famous sculp- 
tor?” 

‘‘ I did not know that he was the famous sculptor 
1 have heard so much of, but his name is Hugo.” 

“ He lives in the Yia San Gallo ? ” 

“Yes, and he seems very unfortunate and wretched, 
in spite of his genius. The girl is lovely, and he wor- 
ships her, and he is quite beside himself with fury and 
indignation. If Castellara remains in Florence, and he 
can see him, he will certainly do him some harm.” 

“ So you would have me save my husband from the 
anger of an infuriated father whose daughter he would 
ruin ? ” cried the Duchess with a hard, scornful laugh. 
“ Truly, Enrico, you expect too much of me ; but what 
reason has the hunchback to think that Castellara is 
the guilty individual ? ” 

“ He has what he considers the best of reasons, the 
strongest of proofs.” 

“ Poor, deluded man, he is mistaken,” said the Duch- 


ENRICO FAILS AS A MEDIATOR. 


267 


ess with a sudden flash of the eyes. “ It is not Castel- 
lara, but I know who it is that loves the pretty Lisa, 
and I will protect her from him. You can tell Signor 
Hugo that he is mistaken. Castellara does not want 
his daughter ; but another does from whom he will 
have to guard her with the greatest vigilance. But I 
will see him, I take the girl under my own care. 
Yes, I will watch her closely ; so closely that her lover 
will never And her.” 

“ Thank you, cousin. It seems that I have come to 
the very one that can best protect her, since you know 
where the danger lies. How, I will see Castellara and 
try all my powers of persuasion to induce him not to 
engage in a duel with Yaldimer, and then all may be 
well, and this cloudy horizon become bright and clear 
again.” 

“ As you like, cousin. I am indifferent. I care not 
how it ends ; you are strong and hopeful, and I have 
lost all faith and trust in anything good, and am weak 
and wavering.” 

Ho not despair, Elena ; there must be some happi- 
ness in store for you. Look on the bright side of things. 
Take care of that lovely child who needs your protec- 
tion, and I will succeed in bringing about a reconcilia- 
tion between Castellara and Yaldimer, and all will go 
smoothly again.” 

The Duchess looked after her cousin as he went 


268 


ENRICO FAILS AS A MEDIATOR. 


away, and said, bitterly : And so he too has seen her 
and is interested in her. He will love her, and Yaldi- 
iner loves her. She is young and beautiful, and I am 
old and worn. I have lost my power over the only 
heart I cared for in the world, and that child, that igno- 
rant, low-born child, has won him from me. Good 
Heavens ! how desperate his passion and impatience 
must be when he resorts to such means to possess lier. 
And Enrico has frustrated his plans. In that he has 
been my friend, and he asks me to protect her from 
Castellara. It is not Castellara I will protect her from, 
but from Yaldimer Hordiskoff.” 

When Enrico sought the presence of the Duke of 
Castellara, he found him in his room, contrary to his 
expectation ; for, although he had received a request 
from him to act as his second in the intended duel, he 
scarcely thought to find him quietly at home if he was 
in any way concerned in the .abduction of Lisa. 

Instead of meeting him with an air of excited ex- 
pectancy and assumed youthfulness, such as would 
have been the case had he been engaged in so question- 
able an act of gallantry, he looked old and worn and 
very serious, and there was a grim determination in his 
voice as he welcomed Enrico. 

“Elena is right,'’ thought the Count, “and the 
hunchback is wrong. The girl has some other lover 
than Castellara. There is some mystery that I have 


ENRICO FAILS AS A MEDIATOR. 


269 


not yet fathomed. What conld the Duke have been 
doing there ? It was his handkerchief, certainly, with 
his coat-of-arms and monogram in the corner; and the 
hunchback is positive as to the waiting carriage, the 
liveries of the servants, and the man whom he met at 
his door. He followed him, and there can be no doubt 
but what the secret visitor to the studio was the Duke ; 
and yet the Duchess seems positive in her assertion that 
it was not her husband, and she is always ready to be- 
lieve anything evil of him. I would give much to 
know whom she suspects ; her manner and her expres- 
sion were strange. If there was any reason in such a 
statement I should say she spoke and looked like one 
devoured with jealousy ; but that cannot be, she does 
not care enough for the Duke to be moved by any infi- 
delity on his part ; beside, she declares that it was not 
he, and his manner now certainly confirms her opinion. 
There is a mystery that neither Hugo nor I can under- 
stand at present, but, doubtless, time and circumstances 
will make everything clear.” 

“ I am glad you have come, Enrico,” said the Duke, 
offering his visitor a chair and drawing another close 
beside him, “ for I am impatient to have this matter 
settled at once ; say to-morrow morning at six o’clock, 
and I can depend on you, can I not ? ” 

“ I should rather dissuade you from a quarrel with 
Hordiskoff, Duke.” 


270 


ENRICO FAILS AS A MEDIATOR. 


“ What ! would you try to prevent me from avenging 
my dishonor and yours also, for is not my wife your 
cousin ? I do not understand you, Enrico. This 
insolent Eussian has ruined the reputation of the 
Duchess of Castellara, and you would have me sit 
quietly at home and endure it ? Where is your pride, 
your honor, the just resentment you should feel against 
this man who has disgraced your cousin ? ” 

“ I cannot agree with you, Duke, that my cousin is 
disgraced unless this duel takes place ; that. alone will 
injure her reputation ; as it is, the malicious world only 
suspects, and no living being dare assert aught against 
the fair fame of the Duchess of Castellara. But if .her 
husband, who should protect her from dishonor, is the 
first to declare it by fighting with his rival, then, in- 
deed, her ruin is completed.” 

“And you think I have no just cause?” cried the 
Duke, his metallic eyes flashing like polished steel. 

“None whatever, except what your jealousy cre- 
ates.” 

“ You are insane, Enrico. I have every proof that 
my wife and Nordiskoff are imprudently intimate.” 

“ Hush; Duke, on the instant, or / will be the one to 
fight with you. If you have no respect for your wife, 
I will compel you to have some for my cousin.” 

“ Ha ! ha ! that sounds well, my young friend, but 
wait until you hear what I have to tell you,” said the 


ENRICO FAILS AS A MEDIATOR. 


271 


Duke with a mocking laugh, “ and then I think you 
will be as anxious to kill Nordiskoff as I am.’’ 

“ I care not what you tell me ; no power on earth can 
make me doubt my cousin’s virtue. That she feels a 
deep and pure friendship — call it love, if you prefer — 
for Count Yaldimer, I am aware, for she makes no 
secret of it, and if she were free to-day she would be- 
come his wife, but as for the vile assertion you make, 
that is false, and it shall not pass your lips unre- 
sented,” cried Enrico hotly. 

“ Calm yourself, I pray, for you but waste your 
anger on a most unworthy cause. What would you 
say if I should tell you that the Duchess of Castellara 
meets her lover clandestinely.” 

“ I should say that you were an infamous liar,” and 
Enrico glared defiantly at the Duke, who remaino/d 
calm and grimly determined, without appearing to 
notice the insult. 

“ Tour language is a little immoderate, but I will 
let it pass for the present, for I have an affair of more 
importance on my mind. Pray allow me to continue 
my statement of facts ; unpleasant though they may 
be, I am determined to lay them before you. Eor the 
last three weeks your cousin, the Duchess of Castel- 
lara, has met Count Yaldimer ISTordiskoff in a hum- 
ble house in the Yia di San Gallo, at least a dozen 
times.” 


272 


ENRICO FAILS AS A MEDIATOR. 


‘‘ Be careful, Duke, how you make such assertions, 
unless you can prove them.” 

“ I have the best of proof — my own eyes. I have not 
hired a spy to watch her movements, I have followed 
her myself, and have seen her enter this house and re- 
main there a long time.” 

Enrico started, and said eagerly : “ Well, what more 
have you seen ? ” 

I have seen Count Nordiskoff enter the same 
house.” 

‘‘ And what does that prove ? ” 

“It proves that the Duchess of Castellara and her 
lover both visit secretly a humble house in a poor 
suburb of the city; there is but one inference to be 
drawn.” 

“ It may be an accident, a coincidence ; nothing 
more.” 

“ Madre di Dio ! Enrico, this is too absurd,” ciled 
the Duke, angrily. “ You are a man of the world, and 
you know well enough that it is no accident. What 
accident could bring them together at the same house, 
the same day, and in an unfrequented part of the city ? ” 

“ Is it not the house of Hugo, the famous sculptor, 
that the Duchess visits ? ” 

“ I know not who dwells there. It is a house with 
but one story above the mezzonino ; and there is a 
green gate to the court.” 


EKRICO FAILS AS A MEDIATOR. 


273 


The very place where the artist lives. The Duch- 
ess admires the work of this remarkable genius greatly j 
then what more likely than that she goes there to attend 
to some commission ? ” 

“ And the Count Yaldimer, does he go there for the 
same purpose ? ” asked the Duke with cutting sarcasm. 

Enrico made no reply for a moment, but seemed to 
be thinking deeply. At last he said : “ Perhaps this 
artist may have a pretty daughter who attracts hTordis- 
koff.” 

‘‘ I know not whether he has a daughter, and I care 
not. You will not blind me with any such flimsy ex- 
cuses.” 

Ah ! ” thought Enrico, “ the Duchess was not mis- 
taken when she said that some other than Castellara 
was the girl’s lover. There is no acting here ; he is 
perfectly honest in what he says, and too deeply moved 
to resort to any ruses to mislead me. It is as clear as 
day to me, now. Yaldimer is in love with the angelic 
Lisa. It was he who visited her. It was he who tried 
to abduct her, and the Duchess suspects him because 
of the letter Hugo found, and makes some excuse to 
go there that she may have positive proof before she 
accuses him. And Castellara has been indiscreet 
enough to follow his wife and linger around the artist’s 
house in order to confront her when she was leaving, 

or to attack Hordiskoff secretly. In some of these 
12 * 


274 ENRICO FAILS AS A MEDIATOR. 

visits the hunchback has seen him, and eager to accept 
any proof that will solve the mystery of his daughter’s 
conduct, he has fixed upon the Duke.” 

Feeling confident that this was the solution to the 
whole problem, Enrico tried, with all his power of per- 
suasion, to convince the Duke. But it was useless ; he 
was fully satisfied of his wife’s infidelity, and deter- 
mined to be revenged upon his rival. 

“ It is useless to try to avert the catastrophe, Enrico,” 
he said sternly. I am resolved to kill Nordiskoff. I 
shall meet him to-morrow morning at six o’clock.” 

“ Then, Duke, I must decline to act as your second ; 
for in doing so, I would but confirm my cousin’s dis- 
honor.” 

“ Yery well, as you like. We will fight, then, with- 
out seconds or witnesses. The duel shall be strictly 
private, and thereby the Duchess’s name will not be 
dragged into it. I will at once write to Hordiskofi to 
meet me to-morrow at six o’clock, wherever he prefers, 
and he may have his choice of weapons. Then one or 
the other of us must fall, for I am resolved to end this 
matter in the only way that it can be honorably con- 
cluded — by the death of either him or me. You will 
keep our secret from the world, Enrico, and tell the 
Duchess for me, if I should not survive, that if she 
becomes the wife of Nordiskoff, she will wed her hus- 
band’s murderer ! ” 


TEE DUEL. 


275 


CHAPTEE XYIIL 


THE DUEL. 



HE night that followed the attempted abduc- 
tion of Lisa was a terrible one to the poor 
hunchback. During the long and weary 
hours of silence and darkness^he paced back and forth 
in the vast studio, never pausing to sleep or rest, for a 
terrible purpose had taken possession of him, and he 
was struggling with it fiercely, striving to conquer it 
in vain ; turning over and over in his mind every 
reason for and against the act he contemplated. He 
was not a depraved being ; he had not a cruel nature ; 
there was much that was good and noble in his com- 
pound character, a mixture of tenderness and gentle- 
ness with vindictive hate and tigerish ferocity. The 
good was on the surface and appeared uppermost in 
his daily life. The evil was the lower strata, that only 
the deepest wrong, the strongest desire for revenge 
could reach ; but, when once touched and troubled, no 
earthly power could calm or allay the demon that 
raged with awful fury. 

Since his earliest childhood there had been one un- 
dying purpose in his heart, one intense, deep-rooted 


276 


THE DUEL, 


hate and desire for vengeance. He had concealed it 
and nourished it in secret, and kept it alive with the 
memory of his mother’s tears, her poverty, and death, 
and his own despised suffering childhood, cast out 
from all human love and pity ; a forlorn, unfortunate 
creature thrown upon the mercy of a hard world, to 
live or die as it might happen. 

And who had been the cause of his mother’s woe 
and ruin, his own poverty and suffering, but the author 
of his being, his father, who had only looked upon him 
once, and then with loathing ? It was not natural, one 
might say, for a child to hate the being who gave him 
life ; but Hugo was in a degree unnatural, his nature 
was as crooked and dwarfed as his person, and this 
man, even though he was his father, had wrought him 
only evil. He owed him nothing but suffering, and 
scorn, and misery I then why should he feel that affec- 
tion which, after all, is more the result of patient, faith- 
ful love bestowed on a child by a parent, than any 
natural impulse ? 

As I said, he had always hated the man who had 
wrought such woe for his mother, such misery for him- 
self, and had cherished the deep-rooted determination 
to revenge his mother’s wrongs and his own mis- 
fortunes if his enemy ever crossed his path. But as 
the years passed away and the bitter sorrows of his 
early days were blurred and softened by time, he 


TKB DUEL. 


277 


ceased to feel the keen desire for vengeance, the gnaw- 
ing hatred toward this unknown father, until he dis- 
covered the danger that threatened his adored child. 
This aroused the demon slumbering within him, and it 
seemed as though, with one fatal stroke, he could 
avenge all the wrongs that had blighted his life. The 
Duke of Castellara represented the betrayer, the 
spoiler of the innocent and defenceless, one who 
sought to ruin the girl he loved so passionately, and 
the only being on earth who loved him ; and he would 
deceive her and blight her sweet, young life, crush her, 
and kill her as some one had his mother. 

And so he paced the night away, restlessly longing 
for the dawn, that he might begin his work of retribu- 
tion, his face ghastly, his eyes wild and red, his long, 
thin hands clenched convulsively, and his bent body 
shaking as though an ague racked him from head to 
foot. 

A little while,” he said, but a little while and 
the hunger in my soul shall be satisfied ; hate, revenge, 
and all the dark desires that fill my heart shall be sur- 
feited. I will pursue him, I will follow him like his 
shadow until the moment comes when I can strike him 
to the heart. Oh I blissful moment, so long desired, 
thou art near, thou art near.” 

He watched the horizon faintly reddening in the 
east, the banner of the sun unfolding in the fair hands 


278 


THE DUEL, 


of the morning, the pearly and violet clouds breaking 
up and floating away from the gate of dawn, and he 
thought : Before this same sun goes down, he will be 
where he can work no more mischief. His proud head 
will be laid low, his cruel heart colder in death than it 
ever was In life ; his ear as deaf to the music of the 
world he loved, as it was to the cries of anguish he 
so often wrung from his defenceless victims. Gray- 
haired sinner, I will send thee unshriven to the place 
prepared for thee ; thou shalt not vex her sweet soul in 
paradise, thou shalt be consumed in eternal torture, 
while she you would ruin will one day live with God 
in peace.” 

At last the dim light of early dawn beamed into the 
studio, and Hugo, creeping softly to the door of Lisa’s 
room, listened intently. Her quiet, regular breathing, 
told him that the girl was sleeping the unbroken sleep 
of the innocent. With a trembling step he approached 
the bed where she lay like the rosy goddess of youth 
and love, her silken lashes resting on her cheek, 
her golden hair making a halo round her head, her 
sweet lips parted, showing the pearls beneath, one 
white, exquisitely moulded arm thrown upward over the 
pillow, and the other palm pressed under her flushed 
cheek. As she lay there, wrapped in repose, she seemed 
more like a lovely picture than a living being, and the 
poor hunchback, with his haggard face, marred by the 


THE DUEL, 


279 


evil demon that possessed him, looked like a weird 
spirit of darkness hovering near her. 

For a moment he stood silently gazing at her, then 
slowly there dawned upon his face an expression of un- 
utterable love and sorrow, and tears — ^large, hot tears — 
gathered and fell from his eyes like drops of rain from 
the heavy clouds preceding a tempest. “ Oh ! my 
treasure, my darling, was ever a human being loved as 
I love you?’’ he murmured in a husky voice. “I 
would give every drop of my heart’s blood for you, I 
would suffer tortures to save you from one moment of 
pain, and yet you think me harsh and cruel, and with- 
hold your love and confidence from me. IS’ow, to save 
you, I am about to stain my soul with the blood of a 
fellow-creature ; I am about to become a monster, a 
wretch, to be feared and abhorred by all, to be hunted 
down and driven from the earth. And yet I do not 
hesitate ; to save you I would commit any sin, I would 
endure any punishment. God knows I did not bring 
this upon myself; I have wronged no one; I have 
lived in peace apart from the world ; I have asked 
nothing, except a place to labor in and a shelter for 
this child I worship. And the humble sanctuary of 
iny home has been invaded, my happiness destroyed, 
and my Lisa’s honor endangered by this gray-haired, 
ruthless spoiler. But I will save you, I will protect 
you, even though it costs me my life. Now, farewell. 


280 


THE DUEL. 


When your miserable father looks upon yon again he 
will be a murderer;” then stooping, he pressed his lips 
to her hair and garments with passionate fervor, not 
daring to touch her face lest he should awaken her, 
and with a long-drawn, convulsive sob he went away 
without one backward glance. 

When he reached the streets, the city was already 
awake. The patient toilers were hastening to their 
toil, rubbing sleep from their heavy eyelids as they 
went. The air was fresh and damp with a frosty chill ; 
but it did not cool the fever of his scorching brow and 
burning eyes, nor quench the fires of passion raging 
within him. Witliout looking to the right or left, he 
hurried on rapidly, and never paused until he reached 
the Ponte Yecchio. The merchants were just opening 
their shops, and more than one looked after him and 
wondered why Signor Hugo was abroad so early. An 
old man standing in a door, with his hands under his 
leather apron, spoke to him, and he looked up like one 
in a dream. 

“ Whither .are you hurrying so fast, this morning, njy 
friend ? ” 

The hunchback stopped suddenly, and pushing his 
hat from his forehead, wiped off the great drops of 
sweat that had gathered there, and then replied, in a 
strange, absent voice : 

I am but out for the air and exercise ; too close 


THE DUEL. 


281 


attention to my work has made me nervous and weakly, 
Master Ercole.” 

“ By my faith, you do look poorly. Sit you down 
and rest a bit.” 

Hugo entered the little shop of Ercole, who was an 
armorer, and looking about carelessly he said, “ How 
goes your business, friend Ercole ? I see you have a 
good stock of arms upon your walls.” 

Indeed I have many more than I wish, but these 
times of peace are not favorable to my trade ; however, 
it is otherwise with you. Signore, for I hear that you 
are well up in the world, with more orders from the 
nobility than you can easily attend to.” 

^‘Yes, fortune favors me, and I am truly to be 
envied,” returned Hugo with gloomy sarcasm. 

“ Well, it’s time some good luck came to you, for 
you have had your share of trouble as well as another.” 

“ That is tr^ie, my friend,” said Hugo, walking to 
the far end of the shop and taking a dagger from a 
hook, which he turned in his hand, running his finger 
c9,relessly over the blade. “ This weapon is of curious 
and antique workmanship. I like the handle, it is 
truly an artistic design.” 

“ Yes, it is an antique, a Toledo blade, and a cinque- 
cento handle.” 

“ What do you value it at ? ” 

‘‘ Oh ! Signore, in these times it is useless to talk of 


282 


THE DUEL. 


the value of a thing. I have had it a long time, and I 
will sell it for six scudiP 

“ Yerj well ; it pleases me, and I will take it. I have 
a fancy for antiquities, as you know, and my means will 
allow me to indulge my taste now and then,” returned 
Hugo as he counted out the money. 

Then, wishing the armorer good morning, he put the 
dagger under his coat and went out hastily. 

“ An early bird catches the worm,” mused Master 
Ercole, as he watched the hunchback hurry down the 
bridge ; “ and such a valuable worm — why, I have made 
more than five soudi on that bargain ; but I wonder 
what is the matter with the Gohhoy he seems excited 
and more absent-minded than usual, and he is a strange 
creature always. Five scudiy what luck ; five scudi be- 
fore breakfast — I wish I might make it every day,” 
and Master Ercole stationed himself at the door again 
in the hope of catching another worm. 

Hugo, with the dagger pressed close to his heart, 
hurried over the bridge, and down the Lung’ Arno, 
in the direction of the palace of the Duke of Cast^l- 
lara. Just as he reached the comer, near the grand 
entrance, a carriage drove out of the court, and passed 
him rapidly, and one glance through the window 
showed him the face he hated with deadly hate, as 
haggard, as pale, and worn as his own, looking, with 
grim determination, out at the busy streets, as though 


THE DUEL, 


283 


it saw nothing near, for the cold metallic gaze was 
fixed on something within its own vision. Perhaps 
it was the dead face of a rival, or some haunting mem- 
ory of long ago that rose before the Duke of Castellara 
in the clear morning air. 

The hunchback, on catching a glimpse of the occu- 
pant of the carriage, uttered a sharp cry, which 
sounded more like the howl of a wild beast than 
anything linman, and started as though he were about 
to rush after his enemy, when a second thought 
convinced him that such a course was foolish, and 
but a waste of time. Looking around, he saw a non- 
descript vehicle creeping along slowly, with a driver 
only half awake upon the box. Beckoning to the 
man as he approached, Hugo held out. a piece of gold, 
and said, eagerly, “ Keep that carriage in sight, and this 
shall be yours.” 

“ All right. Signore ; get in quickly, and I will do 
it,” replied the Jehu, fully awake at the sight of the 
money. 

After some rapid driving and turning through a 
number of streets, the carriage in advance suddenly 
stopped, and the Duke descended. Saying a few 
words to the driver, who turned back, he glanced 
hastily around him, and then walked away in the 
direction of the Cascine. 

Hugo, far enough behind to escape observation, also 


284 


THE DUEL. 


descended, paid, and dismissed his driver, and then 
cautiously followed the Duke until they were near the 
Porta al Prato, when another carriage rapidly turned 
into the Via al Prato, and stopped a few paces from 
the hunchback, who saw with surprise his patron, the 
Pussian Count, Yaldirner Nordiskoff, get out hastily, 
dismiss his servant, and then hurry away toward the 
Cascine. 

What could this mean ? At first Hugo thought that 
some special Providence had ordered the Duke of Cas- 
tellara out for an early morning, walk, for the express 
purpose of giving him an opportunity to wreak his 
vengeance upon him in some retired spot of the gar- 
den. But why was Hordiskoff here also ? Had he too 
some wrong to requite, and was he about to cheat him 
out of his niuch-desired revenge? This thought mad- 
dened him, for now that he saw his victim before him, 
his fingers longed to clench the dagger that was to 
drink his heart’s blood. 

Both were in advance of him, and as they entered 
the gate, they turned in different directions to avoid 
the observation of the custodian or gardeners, for two 
distinguished-looking men, in spite of their plain dress, 
and their being on foot, could not fail to attract some 
attention at that early hour. 

Ho one noticed the hunchback, as with bowed form 
and bent head he wandered wildly from one path to 


TEE DUEL. 


285 


another, searching every thicket and clump of trees 
with his burning eyes to discover the figures that he 
had entirely lost sight of. Where could they have con- 
cealed themselves ? Had they come to fight, and were 
they already engaged in deadly combat in some seclu- 
ded spot of the garden where he could not find them, 
and now, when his triumph* was so near, was he about to 
be defrauded of his bloodthirsty purpose ? Like some 
wild beast that had suddenly lost the scent of its prey, 
he turned and rushed hither and thither, among the 
winding paths, the sweet, silent solitude, under the 
shadows of the trees, in and out, bewildered and mad- 
dened. He sought them in vain. If the earth had 
opened and swallowed them they could not have disap- 
peared more quickly and more completely. 

At last, hearing a sound, he stood still and listened. 
It was nothing but the shrill voice of a bird calling to 
its mate. Again he rushed on until he gained the far- 
ther boundary of the garden where the trees grew closer 
and the shadows were denser, and there distinctly 
another sound smote his ear ; with bated breath and 
staring eyes he bent his head and hollowed his hands 
behind his ears to catch the metallic click, click, sharp 
and clear on the still morning air. 

It was the unmistakable clashing of rapiers and the 
two men were fighting near him. Stooping low and 
creeping cautiously among the underbrush in the di- 


286 


THE DUEL. 


rection of the sound, a few paces from him he saw a 
small open glade bordered by tall trees that protected 
it from the rajs of the sun as well as from the obtru- 
sive ejes of the passers-bj. Shut in by this solid wall 
of shrubbery, Hugo had some difficulty in obtaining a 
view of the two men, but at last, by gently parting the 
boughs and creeping slowly and softly forward, he suc- 
ceeded in concealing himself behind the trunk of a 
tree where he could command the situation without 
being seen by the combatants. 

There, face to face, with deadly hate in each keen, 
steady glance, and cool determination in each well-con- 
trolled stroke, stood the Duke of Castellara and Count 
Yaldimer Hordiskoff. They were well matched in 
skill, each equally calm, self-possessed, and watchful, 
with unflinching gaze, firmly compressed lips, and 
strongly nerved arm, each thrust and parry was well 
studied and masterly. 

As Hugo watched them in breathless silence, it was 
difficult to tell which would be the victor, they seemed 
so well matched as to skill, so resolute as to intention, 
so thoroughly resolved, so unyielding. Each well- 
directed stroke was met with an equally well-directed 
defence, and there was no faltering, no advantage for 
several moments on either side. 

The hunchback stood opposite Yaldimer, and per- 
haps some movement on his part startled the Duke’s 


THE DUEL. 


2S7 


opponent and attracted his attention, for his eyes sud- 
denly lost their steady, fixed gaze, his eyelids quivered, 
and a deeper pallor crept over his face. Tlie sight of 
the haggard figure behind the tree had terrified and 
unnerved him. What was he doing there ? Had he, 
too, come to be avenged upon him ? was the thought 
that passed like lightning through Hordiskofi’s mind 
causing him to lose his advantage, to falter, to waver ; 
but just as the Duke was about to make a lunge at his 
unprotected breast, his rapier was struck aside by a 
sharp blow, and the hunchback rushed between them 
with a frenzied cry. 

“ Go ! ” he said, pushing Yaldimer aside, “ and leave 
him to me. I have a greater wrong than you to 
avenge,” and before the Duke could put himself on 
the defensive, Hugo plunged his dagger to the liilt 
into the breast that was filled with such, burning hate 
for another. 

“ My God ! ” cried Hordiskoff. “ What have you 
done ? ” And springing forward he supported the 
Duke, who was sinking to the ground, his dilated eyes 
fixed upon the hunchback with a look of horror. 

“ Leave me ! ” he groaned, feebly waving Hugo away 
with his fast-failing strength. “ I am dying. What 
evil spirit is here to torment me ? Take him away, 
Amata, he is a horror to me. I loathe him, I hate 
him, I will not see him 1 ” 


288 


THE DUEL. 


Ha ! ha ! ” laughed the hunchback, with devilish 
glee. “ Mj time has come. I torment you, and that is 
well. I have longed, and hungered, and thirsted for 
this moment.” 

“ Amata ! Amata ! ” cried the Duke in a sinking, 
husky voice. 

“ Your Amata is not here, but her wretched, de- 
spised father is before you to avenge his wrongs.” 

“For God’s sake, stand aside!” cried Yaldimer, 
trying to support the Duke ; “he is dying, and we can 
do nothing for him. Do you not see that you torment 
him ? Move aside, so that he cannot look at you.” 

But Hugo pressed nearer and nearer, bending to- 
ward the prostrate man until his fast glazing eyes, with 
their look of horror, could see no longer the fiendish 
face gloating over his last agony. 

“He is dead!” said Yaldimer, laying the heavy 
head gently down on the soft turf. 

“ Yes, he is dead, and I thank God that my hand 
dealt the fatal blow. Now she is safe from his deceiv- 
ing, and my vengeance is satisfied.” 

“ What cause had you to hate him so bitterly ? ” cried 
Yaldimer, surprised and horror-stricken at the strange 
scene. 

“He would have ruined my daughter, my only child ; 
only last night his hired minions tried to steal her from 
me. I love her as my life, aye, and better, and he 


THE DUEL. 


289 


would have robbed me of her,” cried the hunchback, 
dropping his handkerchief over the ghastly face and 
staring eyes. 

‘‘Wretched man, you know not what you have 
done,” said ISTordiskoff, starting as though he had re- 
ceived a blow, and turning as pale as the dead before 
him. 

“He would have dishonored her, deserted her, and 
broken her heart ; she is all I have in the world, my 
one ewe lamb, my pure white flower ; she was good 
and innocent, and truthful, and she loved the mis- 
shapen being before you with a rare love, until he cam^ 
into her life and won her from me with his wiles. Do 
you blame me, then, that I have sent him where he can 
do no more harm ? ” 

“ Oh, unfortunate creature,” cried Hordiskoff, cover- 
ing his face to hide his dreadful agitation, “ you will 
suffer a fearful remorse some time in the future for 
tliis deed.” 

“ He was my mortal enemy, and I have killed him. 
Thank God that my soul and not yours is stained with 
his murder ; but go, save yourself, and we will keep 
each other’s secret.” 

“Wretched man, I will not betray you, although 
you are a murderer, for the Duke did not fall in a fair 
fight, you took him unawares.” 

“ And I saved your life ; an instant more and his 
13 


290 


THE DUEL. 


rapier would have drunk your heart’s blood ; we are 
even, you can afford to keep my secret.” 

“ And I will do it ; may God forgive you for your 
fearful crime,” said Yaldimer, as he walked hurriedly 
away without looking again at the prostrate form of 
the Duke, who but a moment before had stood face to 
face with him, strong, upright, and proud, with steady 
eye and unflinching hand, ready to deal out death to 
his opponent. The Duke had fallen for his misdeeds, 
and he, unharmed, was leaving the spot without the 
curse of blood upon his hands. Another, througli a 
fearful mistake, had dealt the death-blow, saved his 
life, and set him free. Truly, his star of fortune was in 
the ascendancy. 

When Count Yaldimer had disappeared among the 
trees the hunchback picked up his dagger and con- 
cealed it next his heart, then stooping over the pros- 
trate form before him, he said in a hollow, broken voice, 
“ It is done ; my wrongs are avenged, my Lisa is saved ; 
but henceforth I bear the mark of Cain upon my brow, 
and the blight of crime in my heart. O Revenge ! thou 
art a demon that consumes us with remorse even in 
the moment of our triumph.” Then, with a wild, 
searching glance around to see that no one was near, 
he plunged into the thicket and disappeared, and the 
Duke of Castellara was left alone, with the blue sky, 
the trees, and the birds for his companions. 


THE DUEL. 


291 


A few hours later it w^as rumored all over Florence 
that the Duke of Castellara was dead. The rich, the 
powerful, the haughty Duke was found in an obscure 
part of the Cascine, pierced to the heart, cold and 
dead, a rapier clenched in his hand, and another at his 
feet ; but the strangest part of all was that the weapon 
that had given him his death-blow was a dagger instead 
of a rapier, as the wound plainly showed. There was 
a mystery. That a secret duel had taken place was 
plain enough, but who had been the opponent, and how 
the blow had been dealt, was enveloped in complete 
obscurity. 

Of course it was the common topic of conversation. 
And while his body lay in state, and the crowd passed 
in and out to look at one who had once been the favor- 
ite of Ferdinand, there was a murmur of disapproba- 
tion that the authorities had taken no steps to discover 
the murderer ; but after he was buried, the matter was 
soon forgotten, or, if it was spoken of, there was little 
interest expressed, for the Duke, although a great and 
rich noble, had not been a good man, and there must 
have been many a father and husband who had private 
wrongs to avenge and old accounts to settle. 

A handsome young Eussian noble, who rode with 
Enrico in the funeral procession, and a bowed, haggard 
man who carried a blood-stained dagger next his heart 
could have explained the whole mystery, had they 


292 


HAPPY AT LAST. 


chosen to speak. But they preferred to keep silent — 
and until this day the Florentines do not know by 
whom the invincible Duke of Castellara was killed. 


CHAPTEK XIX. 

HAPPY AT LAST. 

OR six months the Duchess of Castellara had 
been a widow, and during that time she had 
remained in the strictest retirement at one of 
her villas near Florence. 

The only visitor she had received, the only one that 
she had allowed to intrude upon her seclusion, had 
been her cousin, Eurico ; through him alone she had 
learned of what was going on in the gay world. She 
listened with interest to the mysterious stories con- 
nected with her husband’s death, and heard of the 
public curiosity and speculation concerning it, but 
said nothing herself ; for it was well understood be- 
tween her cousin and her, that the Duke had gone out 
to tight with Xordiskoff and had met his death at the 
hand of Hugo the hunchback. 

Of course the Duchess did not go into retirement to 
mourn, for her only feeling was one of relief that at 




HAPPY AT LAST, 


293 


last she was free from the galling fetters that had 
bound her so long. Mistress of herself and her hand- 
some fortune, it now seemed to her that she might 
begin life again and blot out the suffering and misery 
of the past in a brighter and happier future. 

There appeared to be now no obstacle to her union 
with ITordiskofP, after a suitable time had expired. 
Not that she had any respect for her husband’s 
memory, or any scruples on her own account ; but she 
would not shock the fashionable world, where she had 
so long reigned a queen, by ignoring any of its rules 
of propriety. So when she remained shut up in the 
deepest seclusion for six months without ever seeing 
Yaldimer, she thought she had fully complied with 
the most rigorous laws of etiquette and well earned her 
restoration to society again. 

But although she did not see Nordiskoff during 
that time she heard daily from him, and his letters 
breathed the deepest and most tender affection ; 
for now that she was absent from him, with the strange 
inconsistency of the human heart, he really desired 
her presence, and sometimes regretted ever having met 
the lovely Lisa, who still exercised a wonderful power 
over him. Of course his love for the obscure and 
simple girl was not in the least like the feeling he 
cherished for the proud and noble Duchess of Castel- 
lara, and he even went so far as to think that he might 


294 


BAPPT AT LAST. 


marry the Duchess, esteem and worship her as his 
wife, and yet love the adorable child upon whom he 
had fixed his heart. 

He could not marry Lisa ; that was not to be ex- 
pected of a rich young noble, a son of one of the 
oldest and proudest families of Hussia. How could 
he, even if he desired to do so, ally himself with a 
poor, low-born girl, the daughter of an unfortunate 
man, who knew nothing of his parentage ? Ho, he 
could not marry the girl, and he could not help loving 
her ; but his affection for her would not in the least 
prevent him from uniting himself to the Duchess, who 
had long loved him, and who now being free, he was 
in honor bound to fulfil her expectations. 

With this false and base reasoning, he prepared him- 
self to meet the Duchess, on her return to the world, as 
her accepted husband, while, at the same time, he pro- 
fessed the deepest love for the child who trusted and 
adored him. 

The sudden and tragic death of the Duke of Cas- 
tellara, and her immediate departure from Florence, 
prevented the Duchess from taking Lisa under her 
protection, as she had promised Enrico she would do, 
and as she was no longer tormented by further proofs 
of Yaldimer’s interest in the girl, she began to think 
that, after all, it was but a young man’s silly fancy for 
a pretty face, which would lose its charm as soon as 


HAPPY AT LAST 


295 


the novelty wore off. And besides, it was humiliating 
to herself to acknowledge a feeling of jealousy for one 
so far beneath her, or to admit, even to her own heart, 
that the Duchess of Castellara could have a rival. 
And then, what greater proof could she have of Yal- 
dimer’s love and devotion than his daily remembrance 
of her in her retirement, in the form of the most affec- 
tionate letters that ever were penned by a faithful 
lover ? 

And so their sentimental horizon, that at one time 
had seemed so cloudy, had cleared itself, and the 
Duchess returned to her palace in Florence and the 
society of her intended husband, with restored confi- 
dence, and renewed faith in her future. At times she 
felt some slight pangs of conscience in admitting to 
herself, that her husband had perhaps come to his 
death through a mistake, through the frantic rage of a 
man whom, possibly, he had never injured. At first 
she had believed Yaldimer to be the guilty party. In 
her jealousy and anger she had mentally accused him 
of the attempted abduction of the girl ; but now that 
she thought calmly of it in her renewed confidence, it 
seemed impossible that he could have been base enough 
to commit such a crime. But Castellara, her dead 
husband, had been fully capable of any wickedness, 
and doubtless the hunchback had the best of reasons 
for his suspicions. In any case, Hugo had saved Nor- 


296 


HAPPY AT LAST. 


diskofE’s life, who was not to blame, because Castellara 
had insisted upon the duel ; one or the other had to 
die, and Yaldimer would have been the victim or the 
murderer of her husband, therefore the hunchback’s 
fatal blow had been dealt at the right moment, for he 
had avenged his own wrongs, and restored her freedom 
as well as saved her lover. 

On the day of the Duchess’s return to Florence, she 
sat in the same beautiful room that we have already 
described, waiting impatiently the arrival of Yaldimer. 
At last he came, and she, with a cry of delight, met his 
outstretched arms, and was clasped to his heart for the 
first time after all her weary years of waiting. 

“ Your torment is over, your martyrdom is ended,” she 
said, clinging to his neck, and weeping from happiness. 

“ Yes, and thank God that it is ended through no 
deed of mine, Elena ; if my hand had given you your 
freedom, I could not now hold you in my arms and 
look in your dear face with the same happy heart.” 

“ Pray do not speak of this in the first moment of 
our happiness. Let us forget the sad and bitter past, 
and live only in this sweet present.” 

“ And in a sweeter and better future, my Elena,” he 
said, tenderly, as he led her to a sofa and seated him- 
self beside her. “ This is a proud and blissful moment 
for me, when I can hold your dear hand, and know 
that it is mine forever.” 


HAPPY AT LAST. 


297 


And you are contented, Yaldimer; you would 
havQ nothing changed ? ” she asked, turning her clear, 
happy eyes full upon him. 

I am perfectly happy ; everything now is as I 
would have it. I have nothing more to desire in this 
world,” he replied, avoiding her steady look, while 
a faint tinge of red stole over his face, a scarcely per- 
ceptible flush of shame, for at that moment he seemed 
to see a pair of innocent, childish blue eyes looking 
into the very depths of his guilty soul, and, in spite of 
himself, he recoiled from the searching gaze as though 
a tender wound had been touched by a rough hand. 

The Duchess noticed the slight change instantly, 
and, in spite of her happiness, a chill seemed to pass 
over her, just the faintest tremor, just a breath of sus- 
picion, which she could not quite banish, though she 
said sweetly and gently : “ I have been so wicked, 
Yaldimer, that I scarcely deserve this happiness. I 
have doubted everything, even your love at times. 
Yes, I have been unjust enough to think that you loved 
another.” 

“ Kow you are jesting, my Elena ; who could I love 
beside you ? ” 

“ Ah ! I know not ; some one younger and fairer 
than I am.” 

“ There is no one living fairer, more beautiful, than 
you.” 


13 * 


298 


HAPPY AT LAST. 


But there are many younger, and youth has its own 
charm.” 

“ You are young, you are all that is perfect. I pray 
you to say no more of your age. Every year that has 
brought your beauty to such perfection has been a 
gift from Heaven.” 

Ah ! that is sweet and kind, Yaldiraer ; but still I 
wish I were younger for your sake.” 

I like not a flower in the bud, neither do I prefer 
half -ripe fruit. If I worship you, and adore you as 
you are, why wish to take away from the years that 
have made you perfect in my eyes ? ” 

‘‘ And you will never grow weary of my love ? ” 

“ Never, Elena !‘ Can one grow weary of Heaven ? ” 
“ Yaldiraer, I trust you now, though I will confess 
that not long since I thought your love wavered ; I 
feared another had won your heart from me.” 

“ Elena, how could you wrong me so ? ” 

‘‘Have I wronged you, Yaldimer? Now, look down 
deep into your heart of hearts, and tell me truly if you 
find any other image there tlian mine.” 

“ How absurd, sweet love. Why, for four years your 
face has been impressed upon every fold of my heart ; 
every fibre of my being has thrilled and responded but 
to your name.” 

“ Pardon me, dearest, if I seem to question you 
closely, but now I wish my heart to be at rest, for 


HAPPY AT LA8T. 


299 


when I am your wife, I would not have a cloud come 
between us, not the faintest breath of a suspicion. 
You are sure, quite sure, that since you have professed 
to love me that you have never breathed the same 
vows to another ? ” 

Yaldimer looked away while he pressed her white 
hand fondly to his lips, and said, with some gravity : 
‘‘My Elena, you are a woman of the world, you 
understand human nature, you know the folly a man 
may be guilty of at times, how he may mistake his 
imagination for his feelings, his fancies for his affec- 
tions. I will be truthful with you, though it is a sort 
of sacrilege to oblige me to make odious comparisons 
between my love for you and my professions for 
others. Is it not enough for you to know that I adore 
and worship you, that you are far above any other in 
my estimation, that you are the chosen mistress of my 
destiny, my Elena, my wife.” 

“ That is enough, Yaldimer. I understand you, and 
I trust you. My love for yon is a deep-rooted feeling, 
not a light or idle fancy. God knows how I have 
suffered, how I have struggled to crush and kill it in 
times past, when it seemed unworthy of me to cherish 
such a passion. It has been my one rock to cling to 
amid the mad waves of despair and anguish, hate and 
revenge, that have so often threatened to engulf me 
It has saved me from fearful extremes, it has kept one 


300 


HAPPY AT LAST. 


tender spot in my heart, one spark of womanly gentle- 
ness alive. It has been my only hope, my only salva- 
tion for so long, that were I to lose it, I should be 
utterly ruined and shipwrecked.” 

“ You will never lose my love. Why dwell on such 
a theme ? ” returned the Count, deeply moved, espe- 
cially at the moment when our happiness is about to 
be.isionsummated. Elena, I decided when I came here 
not to leave you until you named the day that is to 
make you my wife.” 

“Ah ! Yaldimer, let us not hasten the time, we are 
happy enough as we are.” 

“ Why should we wait, Elena ? You have done all 
that propriety demands of you, then why not become 
mine at once ? ” 

The Duchess did not reply immediately, but seemed 
to be thinking deeply, and a shade of sadness passed 
over her face that had been so unclouded but a mo- 
ment before, then she looked up at Yaldimer, who sat 
with his eyes bent upon her, waiting for her answer, 
and said, with some hesitation : “ I cannot decide now, 
Yaldimer. I prefer to wait a little. I have an impres- 
sion, a sudden conviction, that I ought to wait.” 

“ Well, then, dearest, I will not urge you against 
your impressions, though you make me unhappy by 
refusing the fondest wish of my heart ; however, I can 
wait a little longer, as I have waited so long, but I 


HAPPY AT LAST. 


301 


beg that you will not delay until my small stock of 
patience is exhausted.’’ 

“ Give me a little time to decide, dear Yaldimer, and 
all shall be as you wish,” she returned, with a tender 
glance and a gentle pressure of the hand. 

“ And in the meantime shall we hide ourselves from 
the world ? ” 

“ Ko, indeed. I shall go this very afternoon wh,h 
you to drive in the Casein e. Why, I am just longing 
for the dear place once more. For six months I have 
been buried, and now I want to see the gay world 
again. Oh ! Yaldimer, how proud and happy I shall 
be to appear in public with you as my own, my very 
own ! ” cried the Duchess with childish gayety. 

“ And I shall be the envy of all Florence ! ” returned 
Nordiskoff. “ At what hour will you be ready % ” 

‘‘ At five o’clock ; and after our drive we will have a 
delightful tete-d-tHe dinner in my own boudoir, and no 
one shall come to disturb us. Will not that be charm- 
ing ? ” 

“ Perfectly, a beginning of our paradise on earth,” 
replied Yaldimer. But I must go, now, and allow 
you to see your other friends, who, I know, are wait- 
ing anxiously for you. At five o’clock I will be with 
you, and until that hour I shall only half live.” Then 
he embraced her fondly and went away, feeling that 
matters were entirely settled between them, and that 


302 


HAPPY AT LAST. 


he ought to be, as he had declared he was, the happiest 
of mortals — instead of which he was most uncomfort- 
able. 

On one thing he had decided, and that was his mar- 
riage with the Duchess ; but he had not made up his 
mind to abandon his pursuit of the artist’s daughter. 
The more he thought of such a termination to his 
secret and romantic love affair with the beautiful girl, 
the more impossible it seemed to relinquish her, and 
the more strongly his ungoverned heart craved for her. 

“ I love her, I am sure I love her ! ” he repeated 
over and over, “ and God knows I would not harm a 
hair of her dear head. I would not bring one tear to 
her heavenly eyes. If she were my equal, if she were 
not low-born, all the world might go to the winds and 
she should be my wife ; but, as it is, I cannot marry 
her and I cannot live without her. But why should I 
have any scruples about taking her away from her 
father. He is a terrible, half-insane, ferocious brute, 
who may kill her in a tit of madness, in spite of his 
affection for her, which, after all, may be more avarice 
than love. She would be happier with me, poor, loving 
child. I will be tender and careful of her, and her 
life will be as cloudless as a summer day. I will hide 
her in some quiet, pretty spot, and surround her with 
every comfort, and the Duchess will never be any the 
wiser ; and I shall not esteem and love my wife any 


HAPPY AT LAST. 


303 


the less for the affection I bestow on this pretty flower, 
this pure, fragrant, white lily. 

In this way, with this false reasoning, Count Yaldi- 
iner reconciled his conscience with his conduct, and 
thought himself an honorable, high-minded man, and 
most fortunate to be loved so devotedly by two such 
adorable women. 

After Count Nordiskoff left the Duchess, she paced 
the room slowly and thoughtfully, all the happiness 
fading out of her face as though she had suddenly con- 
fronted some sorrow of the past that would not be ban- 
ished by her present happiness. 

“ Itds of no use,” she murmured with a weary sigh. 
“Just as I think I am at peace and free from suffering 
some old pain begins to gnaw at my heart. I have tried 
to drive away all memory to-day, tried to forget that I 
have lived before, tried to be happy in the present, and 
straightway this poor, pale ghost of a vanished joy rises 
before me, looks with unflinching eyes into mine, and 
points with steady Anger to the grim tyrant, conscience, 
which I have endeavored to put under my feet. But 
he is stronger than I am, and rises undaunted and 
stands before me Arm and resolute, my tyrant, always 
my tyrant. Why did I lack the courage to tell Yaldi- 
mer all ? His mood was gentle, his eyes kind ; he would 
have pitied and forgiven me, and my tyrant would be 
content to leave me at last in peace. I accused and 


304 


HAPPY AT LAST. 


questioned and suspected the man 1 love, and all the 
while kept mj own heart closely covered from him. I 
said there must not be a shadow between us on this 
day, and yet I kept this dark cloud over my own soul. 
It is wrong, all wrong, and I cannot be happy — I must 
not be happy. 

Poor Yaldimer, one day he will learn all, and then 
he will remember how I concealed my suffering from 
him, from all the world. I should have bared my soul 
to him to-day ; it was my chance and I let it pass. 1 
should have kept nothing back; even that letter, I 
should have laid before him. It was in his own hand- 
writing, and it should have been explained. But it is 
too late. We have agreed to accept each other as we 
are, and now there can be no further opportunity of 
wiping out all the blurred, imperfect past.” 

A few moments later Enrico entered, and the 
Duchess clothed her face again in smiles to receive 
him, for he must not find her sad on this day of all 
others ; he must see her happy, and glad, aye, as joyous 
and light-hearted as she had been when they were 
children together. 

“ Why, my cousin, you look radiant,” cried Enrico, 
as she came to meet him ; your eyes are like stars, 
and your face one wreath of smiles. A happy heart 
must beat beneath that bewitching robe that becomes 
you so charmingly.” 


HAPPY AT LAST. 


305 


“I am happy, very happy. It is so delightful to 
return to Florence, and to my friends again.” 

“ No wonder, Elena, after your dreary seclusion ; 
but you endured it like a heroine, and it has not 
impaired your beauty, but rather heightened it. You 
look as you did before you married Castellara.” 

“I am thankful for that, and I might add that I 
feel as I did before my sacrifice. I am ‘like a slave 
who has suddenly lost his fetters, and scarcely knows 
whether to walk or fly for lightness of heart.” 

“ If you* are happy at last, ray dear cousin, I rejoice 
with you, for a Jieavy heart is a wearisome burden to 
bear.” 

It is, indeed ; but you speak as though you had 
experienced it ; your tones are very dolorous, and now 
I think of it, your handsome face is just a little 
clouded. Tell me now what has happened to you.” 

“ Nothing, nothing ever happens to me but I did 
not come here to talk of myself. I came to congrat- 
ulate you.” 

“ Then you know, Enrico ? ” said the Duchess, with 
a blush and warm smile. 

‘‘ Yes, I met Yaldimer, and he told me that all was 
settled, excepting the day.” 

I could not decide just at once, and there is no 
hurry.” 

“ I should agree with you that there is no hurry. I 


306 


HAPPY AT LAST. 


would let poor Castellara become cold in his grave 
before I married again.” 

“ I am no hypocrite, cousin. I hated him ; then 
why should I wait ? ” 

“ In spite of his faults, he was your husband, and I 
should t]‘eat his memory with some respect, if I were 
you.” 

“ Bah ! Enrico, yon are my evil genius. I am 
happy, and you come like an ugly, croaking raven to 
make me sad again.” 

You mistake me, Elena, as you always do. I am 
sure no one in the world can desire your welfare more 
than I do. I am Yaldimer’s friend, and I trust you 
will be happy together.” 

“ Thank you, but there is not a hearty ring of assur- 
ance in your words. Your lips say you wish it, but 
your manner says you doubt it. Now, Eurico, 1 would 
rather you killed me where I stand, than I should 
marry Yaldimer and make him miserable.” 

“ Why, how absurd ! You will make him the hap- 
piest of men.” 

‘‘ Do you sincerely think so, Enrico ? ” 

“ Yes, dear Elena, I do, though I will confess that 
at one time I thought he was interested slightly in 
another direction. But that is over, and I am sure he 
loves you truly and sincerely.” 

You are sure it is over ? ” 


HAPPY AT LAST. 


307 


Quite sure.” 

“ Now, tell me, Enrico, but this, and I will question 
you no more ; was she the daughter of Hugo the 
artist ^ ” 

“ I am not sure, but I fancied so ; however, it was 
but a young man’s folly, and it is over.” 

“ Enrico, you will not deceive me, you are sure that 
it is over ? ” 

“ As sure as I am that he loves you. If I were not 
convinced that it was so, I should not be his friend; 
for to tell you the truth, and you will keep my secret, 
cousin, I have thought too much of the lovely girl 
myself ? ” 

‘ ‘ Ah ! since the night you rescued her ? ” 

“Yes, and I have never seen her since, save in 
church, Elena; her beauty is something divine, and I 
believe she is as pure and innocent as she is lovely.” 

“Well, Enrico, what does it matter whether she be 
good or evil ? You do not want her, you cannot make 
her your wife, and you are too noble to injure the 
girl.” 

“ If I could win her love, I would marry her, Elena,” 
returned Enrico seriously. 

The Duchess looked at him in astonishment. “ Why, 
the beauty of this hunchback’s daughter seems to have 
turned your head ! She is dangerous ; she should be 
shut up in a convent.” 


308 


HAPPY AT LAST. 


“ On the contrary, she should be in a different posi- 
tion ; she should have a home and husband worthy of 
her grace and beauty.” 

“ And do you intend to elevate her to such a lofty 
station ? ” 

“ Elena, I am serious, I never was more so in my 
life. I love that girl, and you know what love means 
with me ; if I could get her away from her father I 
would educate her and then marry her.” 

“Without knowing what she sprung from, who her 
mother was, or whether she is his child or not ? ” 

“ As she is I love her.” 

“ Oh, Enrico, is it possible that you have lost your 
head as well as your heart ? I really can’t believe it ; 
but I must leave you now to dress, for I have an ap- 
pointment to drive with Yaldimer at five. But let me 
advise you to see a doctor, to be bled, and to have a 
cold compress bound about your temples.” And with 
a gay laugh the Duchess kissed her hand to him and 
went away. 


HUGO'S DESPAIR. 


309 


CHAPTER XX. 

Hugo’s despair. 

X the day of the tragedy in the Casein e, Hugo 
did not return to his house until nightfall. 
Leaving the garden, where the sunlight shim- 
mered through the trees on the dead face of the Duke 
of Castellara, he rushed away for miles into the coun- 
try, flying in frenzied haste from a phanton that seemed 
to pursue him. Through deserted roads, over hills and 
plains, through tangled woods, across dank meadows, 
on and on he went, while the heavens seemed blood- 
red above him, and the earth a reeling, shifting leaden 
plain that scorched his feet as it slipped away from 
under his hurrying steps. 

Xow and then he pressed his hand to his forehead 
as though he would wipe off the burning mark that 
seemed imprinted there by a divine Anger, while he 
muttered from time to time, “ Cain, Cain.” How the 
day passed he never knew, but at night he found him- 
self near the Church of San Miniato, near the spot 
where he had passed the happiest days of his life, the 
only peaceful days he had ever known. 

Going near his little cottage he found it inhabited. 



310 


HUGO'S DESPAIR. 


Some peasants had sought a shelter there, a goat 
browsed where Nana had cropped the scanty grass, and 
a black-eyed, dark-browed child played under the 
cypress tree, where he had so often sat with the fair- 
haired Lisa. The trellis had fallen to ruin, the dead 
and ragged vines fluttered disconsolately from the 
broken arches, the garden was overgrown with weeds, 
and the little rivulet was choked and dried up. 

With a groan of anguish, he turned away and sought 
the shelter of the church ; there all was calm and holy. 
Keligious quiet, and the shadows of coming night 
brooded over the solemn spot. Sinking on his knees ' 
at one of the altars, he tried to pray, lifting his eyes to 
the face of the dying Christ ; but instead of the ex- 
pression of divine pity mingled with its human agony, 
it seemed to frown on him, and the letters burned and 
glowed over the halo about his head, until they seemed 
to be written in fire. Slowly he spelled them out, one by 
one : “ Thou art accursed! the hraud of Gain is u^on 
theeT With a cry of horror he started up and fled out ' 
into the gathering twilight. Hurrying down the hill 
with his hands pressed against his throbbing temples, 
he dared not look to the right nor left, for there, under 
the shadow of the cypress, he expected to see a phan- 
tom arise and come forth to meet him. It was there 
that he had committed his first sin, there that he had i 
stolen the child which had given him all his happiness ■ 


HUGO'S DESPAIR. 


311 


and all his misery. If he had not listened to that 
temptation, he would not now be suffering this tor- 
ment of remorse, he would not be fleeing from his 
accusing conscience, a murderer, with the curse of his 
victim’s blood upon his soul. 

Going straight on, his head bent and his eyes cov- 
ered, he suddenly came face to face with a priest, who 
was slowly toiling up the hill. Starting back affrighted, 
he was about to rush by him, when a voice that was 
not unfamiliar exclaimed, “ As I live, I believe this is 
Hugo, my old friend.” 

The hunchback stopped reluctantly, and with heavy, 
blood-shot eyes slowly scanned the face before him, 
while he said, in a hollow voice : “ Your speech is famil- 
iar, and your face I have seen before. Surely it is 
father llario; though more than sixteen years have 
passed since you left Florence, yet I have not forgotten 
you.” 

Can it be possible that it is sixteen years since I 
climbed this hill ? ” said the old priest, breathing hard 
and wiping the streaming perspiration from his fore- 
head. “ If it were not that I had grown so stout, and 
feel my age in mounting this steep ascent, I should say 
that I was scarcely a year older, for the time has passed 
happily since I saw you, and things have gone well 
with me in Rome, where I have been ever since I left 
our good city of Florence.” 


312 


HUOaS DESPAIR. 


I am glad to hear that some one has been fortu- 
nate/’ returned the hunchback with a groan. 

“ What does this mean, Master Hugo, that you 
speak in the same dolorous manner as you did in other 
days, for, unless rumor is false, you too have prospered 
and become famous in your profession ? Why, the 
news of your success has reached me even in Rome.” 

“ Yes, yes, Father Ilario, it is true. I have no cause 
to complain. My good fortune is on every tongue. I 
am no longer the poor despised creature that I was. 
The people respect me, and the great and noble seek 
my humble home to offer me their patronage. Wealth 
flows in upon me ; but withal, I am wretched, more 
wretched than any living thing.” 

‘‘ Then, as I told you long ago, it must be your own 
morbid, unhappy disposition that makes you so. Pray 
to God to change your heart and give you a different 
nature.” ^ 

“You bid me pray. Oh! Father, it is useless. I 
cannot. God’s ear is closed against me ; there is a 
black wall of guilt between the compassionate Saviour 
and me, that keeps me away from Him.” 

Then go to your confessor and unburden your 
soul to him, and he will show you the way to obtain 
pardon.” 

“ I have no confessor. I never have confessed to 
any one.” 


HUGO'S DESPAIR. 


313 


“ Is it possible, my son, that you so neglect your 
duty and the means of grace offered you ? No wonder 
that you are oppressed with your load of sin. Come 
to me and unburden your heart ; lay your breast bare 
before me, expose your most secret fault, and you will 
find peace and happiness.” 

“ Oh ! Father, is it possible, can I be forgiven ? ” 
cried Hugo, seizing this hope and clinging to it as 
eagerly as a drowning man would to a plank thrown 
him by a friendly hand. Can the sins and secrets of 
years be blotted out and made clear in God’s eyes? 
Can crimes be obliterated and pardoned by the most 
High? Can the suffering, burdened soul find peace 
and happiness at last ? ” 

“ Yes, my son, through God’s mercy ; but first you 
must come to his confessional with a sincere and peni- 
tent heart.” 

“ I am ready. Oh ! Fatlier, help me if you can. 
When shall I come to you ? ” 

“ To-morrow, if you will. I shall be at San Marco 
during mass, every day for the future, as far as I can 
tell, for I am not to return to Home again. And do 
not fail in your good resolution. May God help you, 
m}^ son, to come to Him through the mediation of our 
Blessed Saviour. Now go your way and leave me to 
myself, for having just returned after my long ab- 
sence, I would first offer up my thanks to the Holy 
14 


814 


HUGOS DESPAIR. 


Virgin at her own altar in San Miniato, where she 
promised me her special protection.” 

With his heart somewhat lightened of its heavy 
burden, Hugo left Father Ilario and hurried througli 
the city to his home, where he found Lisa and Signora 
Pia awaiting him in the greatest anxiety. When he 
crossed the threshold it seemed as though he had been 
gone for months, and when the girl threw her arms 
around his neck and kissed him fondly in her joy at 
his return, he shuddered and put her away, fearing 
lest his touch might contaminate and stain her pure 
soul. 

“Are you ill, papa ? ” she said anxiously ; “ you look 
so pale and distressed.” 

“ ITo, my child, I am not ill ; I am only weary, and 
I will seek quiet and rest in my own room.” 

“But you will take some supper, surely. Signore?” 
said Signora Pia, “ for after this long day’s absence 
you must be hungry as well as tired.” 

“I am not hungry. I have eaten,” returned the 
hunchback, avoiding Lisa’s questioning, anxious look 
as he hastened to his room. 

The next day, as Father Ilario had feared he might 
do, he wavered in his good intention, and was in a moi’e 
miserable condition than before. There was only one 
thing that kept him back from confessing all to the 
good priest, and that was the fear of having to resign 


EUGO^S DESPAIR. 


315 


tlie girl he worshipped. When he looked upon her 
lovely face, when he felt the soft, tender touch of her 
hand, when he heard her sweet voice say, “ papa,” his 
resolve vanished, and the burden pressing so heavily 
upon his soul was light in comparison with what it 
would be if he were compelled to give her up. 

He did not fear confessing to Father Ilario that he 
had stolen the child, he did not even fear to reveal the 
secret of the dreadful deed he had committed in the 
garden of the Cascine, none of his sins seemed great 
enough to deter him from confession ; but the thought 
that he, by acknowledging the child was not his own, 
might have to give her up to her rightful parents, who, 
he believed, could be discovered, if they were sought 
for, maddened and ^ tormented him more than the 
memory of his crime. 

At times he tried to make a compromise with his 
own conscience, resolving that he would go to Father 
Ilario and confess part of his sin, keeping back that 
which related to the child ; but then his reason told 
him that God would not accept such a half sacrifice, 
that his penitence would not be sincere and acceptable 
if his avowal was not entire and freely given. 

At last, as day after day passed away in this sinful 
indecision, he became somewhat accustomed to the 
burden of his crime, and in a manner reconciled to 
his situation. How that his enemy was removed by 


31G 


EUGaS DESPAIR. 


death, and there was no further fear for Lisa’s safety, 
he relaxed his vigilance and allowed the poor girl some 
liberty, permitting her to go out often with Signora 
Pia, not only to the churches, but to the gardens, 
where Yaldimer soon discovered her and renewed his 
intercourse, which had been interrupted by her close 
imprisonment. He had found means of conveying 
notes to her, and even of exchanging a few words with 
her in the churches, while Signora Pia was intently 
engaged at her devotions ; and had also met her many 
times in her father’s studio, when the wretched man, 
driven by his uneasy conscience, was compelled to 
rush out and wander about the city or country to find 
distraction from his own thoughts. 

These were happy days to Lisa — the color returned 
once more to her cheeks, the light to her eyes, and the 
ready smiles to her lips ; and her father, seeing her 
contentment, thought it was because of her freedom 
from Castellara’s persecution, and the renewed confi- 
dence and sympathy between them. And as the weeks 
passed on and his burden of crime became endurable, 
because of his familiarity with it, he began to regret 
his partial confession to Father Ilario, and even feared 
that he might possibly meet him in some of his wan- 
derings about the city. Then the old idea of leaving 
Florence and hiding himself somewhere took posses* 
sion of him, and he worked with a feverish haste on 


HUG 0^8 DESPAIR. 


317 


the statue of Hebe, which was fast approaching com- 
pletion ; for he resolved that as soon as it was finished, 
and he was paid for it, to take Lisa with him and go 
as far away as possible from all who had ever known 
him — from the place where he had sinned and suffered 
— to some quiet retreat, where, with his idolized child, 
he miglit forget the past in a new and happier life. 

The statue of Hemesis was still unfinished, for the 
Duchess of Castellara had been absent from the city 
for six months, and Hugo did not know wlien she 
would return ; but he had resolved not to remain one 
day in Florence after Count Hordiskoff had accepted 
and paid him the price agreed upon for the Hebe, even 
though the order from the Duchess should never be 
completed. 

One morning, after several days of almost incessant 
toil, Hugo put the finishing touches to the exquisite 
statue, that stood a marvel of loveliness behind the 
crimson curtain in one corner of his studio. He had 
cut the stone himself, for he would not allow any other 
hand than his own to copy his conception from clay to 
marble, believing that each stroke should be made by 
the hand of the master that conceived the whole. 

He was very weary and oppressed by anxiety, in 
spite of his joy, at the completion of his work, and 
when he released Lisa from her last sitting, he re- 
marked that he should go into the country for a long 


318 


HUG as DESFAIE. 


walk, which would refresh and invigorate him. But, 
instead of going out as he thought to do at once, he 
sat down before the statue, and began to study it criti- 
cally, and it seemed to him, as he looked at it, that it 
took life and moved, and breathed. It was Lisa, her 
lovely form, her exquisite face changed • into the 
radiant goddess of youth. Her uplifted eyes, her 
smiling mouth, her white arms holding aloft the cup 
filled with divine nectar; the lithe, graceful limbs 
with their clinging, delicate drapery, the feet that 
seemed to spurn the clouds beneath them, could not 
all be cold, inflexible marble, the work of his hand, 
the conception of his throbbing, aching brain, but 
rather an emanation from an immortal power con- 
cealed within his hideous form. While he looked at it, 
it seemed to move and float toward Heaven, the white 
arms waved him a farewell, the eyes were turned 
toward him in a mute adieu, the lips murmured in- 
audible words of parting ; the face grew fixed and 
stony, the limbs immobile, and, instead of Hebe, he 
saw before him the rigid, dead form of his child, his 
Lisa. A heavy stupor seemed to settle upon him ; his 
senses were benumbed and dull, his eyes closed, 
his weary head fell forward on his breast, and he 
slept from exhaustion, quietly and deeply, sitting 
before the statue that he had just completed. 

It was some time before he awoke, and then he was 


HUGO'S DESPAIR, 


319 


conscious that he was no longer alone, for two persons 
on tlie other side of the heavy curtain were engaged in 
a low, earnest conversation. 

Holding his breath, and pressing liis hand tightly 
to his throbbing heart, he listened, and recognized his 
daughter’s voice, and the words she uttered seemed 
like liquid fire poured upon his brain. 

Ah, Y aldimer,” she said, you know I love you 
better than any one on earth, better than my father, 
yes, a thousand times better, for I can leave him for 
you. Think what my love must be, when I can forget 
all his patient affection, all his life-long devotion and 
tenderness, to go with you, who are little better than a 
stranger to me, whom I have not tried and tested as I 
liave him ; then, I entreat you, not to say that I love 
him better than you, for am I not now about to prove 
which is dearest to me ? ” 

“ Yes, my sweet darling, you are, and this is the only 
way you can convince me of your love,” returned Yal- 
dimer Hordiskoff in soft, insinuating tones that sounded 
like the howling of fiends to the tortured ears of the 
wretched man, who writhed with the agony he was 
trying to control. “ And you must.be brave, my trea- 
sure, for all depends upon your courage. How listen 
carefully to the directions I am about to give you. 
To-morrow night, as soon as your father retires, you 
must unfasten the locks softly, and slip down the stairs, 


320 


HUGO'8 DESPAIR, 


swiftly and silently, to the outer door, which you will 
find open. At the corner of the street you will see a 
carriage, with a driver apparently fast asleep, which 
you will enter without a word, then you will be 
swiftly driven away to the jporta di San Gallo. There 
I will join you, and before morning we wdll be far 
from Florence, and beyond pursuit.” 

And where shall we find the priest to marry us ? ” 
asked Lisa in sweet, eager tones. 

“ In the first town we stop. at. I have arranged it all, 
so do not worry your pretty head about that.” 

And my father, my poor father, how unhappy he 
will be ! Oh ! Yaldimer, would it not be better to tell 
him all ? I am sure if he knew my happiness depended 
upon our union he would not refuse his sanction.” 

“ Hush ! my child, you do not know what you are 
saying ; I know your father belter than you do, his love 
for you is a selfish affection ; he will not give you to 
any one willingly, and the first intimation that you 
care for me, would be followed by your close impris- 
onment, and I should never see you again ; so unless 
you wish to be separated from me forever, conceal our 
love from him with the greatest care.” 

“ Ah ! you know I cannot be separated from you, 
yet I hesitate to make my father suffer, as I know 
he will when I am gone, and he has nothing left to 
love.” 


HUGO'S DESPAIR. 


321 


“ He will have what he loves even better than you, 
he will have ten thousand SGudi^ 

“ Oh ! Y aldimer, do not say that he is mercenary, 
that any amount of money will console him for my 
loss, for I know that he loves me better than wealth, 
better than his art, better than anything on earth.’’ 

“ It may be, dearest, but I doubt it. However, it 
does not matter about his love, you have chosen me, 
have you not? You love me better than your father, 
is it not so ? and you will leave him to go with me ? ” 
‘‘Ah! yes, dear Yal dimer, I love you beyond any- 
one, and I will go with you, because I cannot live 
without you.” 

“ That is enough, my darling. I am too happy, and 
may God forget me, if I ever cause you sorrow.” 

“ There can be no sorrow with you. I shall always 
be happy in your love. Still, I must return soon to 
my poor father, for he will be so desolate without me.” 

“ In spite of your declaration that you love me best, 
you still desire to return to him ? ” 

“ But you promised me that our parting should be 
but for a little while ; that I should return to him soon, 
or that he should come to me ; and you are so good 
that you will keep your promise.” 

“ Then you cannot give him up entirely ? ” 

“ Ah ! Yaldiraer, why should I ? ” 

“ Do you think that when you belong to me, you 
14 * 


322 


HUOO'S DE8PA1IL 


will wish to return to him and be his model ? You 
must understand, Lisa, that such a thing is impossible.” 

^‘But I can see him, I can love him. Oh! Yaldi- 
mer, he is mj father.” 

I sometimes doubt that. Have you ever thought 
of such a possibili ty as his not being your father ? ” 

“Never, Yaldimer. As far back as I can remem- 
ber, I have had no one but him.” 

“ It seems impossible that you can have any of Kis 
dark blood in your veins, and why does he never speak 
of your mother ? ” 

“ She died so long ago. But do not speak of that, 
do not teach me to doubt my own father, whom I have 
always loved.” 

“ But he has a fearful, cruel nature. Why should 
you love him ? ” 

“ I beg that you will not speak so of him ; he has 
been good to me, and I love him and reverence his 
genius.” 

“ Ah ! his genius has had a valuable aid, my Lisa, in 
your beauty, which he has used long enough, and has 
turned into gold, all that he ever shall ; henceforth it 
will belong to me, and I shall guard it well from his 
covetous eyes. I think when he loses you he will re- 
gret the model more than the child.” 

“I cannot think so, Yaldimer; you are unjust to 
him because you do not know how tender and noble 


HUGO'S HESPAIM. 


323 


his heart is, in spite of his unprepossessing appearance 
and sullen manners. And I am sure he is my father, 
my heart has never doubted it ; therefore, I^nust love 
him and see him, and you will not deprive me of that 
happiness if you love me.’’ 

‘‘We will think of that hereafter, dearest. I shall 
find a pretty little nest for my darling, not far from 
Florence, where she can be as happy as a bird all day 
long, and then she will forget all the past and live only 
for me.” 

“ I have given my life to you, Yaldimer, and hence- 
forth it is only yours.” 

“ Sweet love, you make me happy beyond expression 
when you speak so confidently of your trust in me. 
Only one day more, and my treasure shall be mine, 
forever. I shall not see you again until I hold you in 
my arms, never again to lose you. To-morrow, at four 
o’clock, I have an appointment here with your father, 
to see the statue of Hebe completed. I shall then pay 
him the price agreed upon, and, instead of ordering 
him to send the work to its final destination, I shall 
request him to keep it until he has further directions 
from me, for it would be cruel to rob him at once of 
his model, his child, and the most perfect production 
of his genius.” 

“ Ah ! Yaldimer, as dearly as I love you, my heart 
aches at the thought of leaving him.” 


324 : 


HUGO CONFESSES. 


Then you regret your promise, and you will fail to 
meet me to-morrow night ? ” 

“ No, I ^ill not fail you. Nothing but death shall 
keep me from you.” 

Then the wretched Hugo heard a few low-spoken 
words of tender farewell, some passionate kisses, and 
then the door closing upon Count Nordiskoff, and after 
that the slow, soft step of Lisa as she went to her own 
room, and he remembered no more. The world seemed 
to glide away from beneath his feet, and slipping 
from the chair, where he had listened, as silent as the 
statue before him, he fell in a heap upon the floor and 
lay like one dead, without sound or motion. 


CHAPTER XXI. 

HUGO CONFESSES. 

OUNT YALDIMER NORDISKOFF, after 
his interview with Lisa, which we have re- 
corded in the previous chapter, went directly 
to the Duchess of Castellara in order to make some 
excuse for his intended absence from Florence for a 
few days. 

It was a little over two weeks since the Duchess had 


HUGO CONFESSES. 


325 


returned from her country residence, and during that 
time nothing had occurred to disturb her happiness 
with Yaldimer. They had appeared in public to- 
gether, and it was well understood in the fashionable 
world that the beautiful Duchess was at last to marry 
the man of her choice. 

There was a romance about this long attachment 
that pleased the sentimental character of the Italians, 
and gave a poetical coloring to what otherwise might 
have been quite commonplace. So, wherever they 
went, they were the courted and flattered idols of 
society. 

“ The Duchess seems to have renewed her youth,” 
said one of her admirers, watching her as she drove 
through the Cascine with Yaldimer by her side, her 
face radiant with happiness, and her lips wreathed 
with smiles. 

“ Yes, happiness makes one young,” returned an- 
other of a group of fashionable loungers about the 
music stand. “ It was a lucky thing for. her that Cas- 
tellara was taken off the way he was, for she must have 
been tired of waiting.” 

“ There is a mystery about his death fully as great 
as that singular affair of Challonner. Do you remem- 
ber him ; the young Englishman who was killed by 
the brigands % ” 

‘‘The brigands! Ah! that is good,” laughed the 


326 


HUGO CONFESSES. 


group. “ Why, who ever doubted that Castellara had 
him put out of the way ? ” 

Well, who can tell but what the Duke was paid in 
his own coin when that dagger-blow was struck in the 
Cascine ? Heaven knows Hordiskoft waited long 
enough for him to die a natural death.” 

“ Oh ! nonsense. Hordiskoft had nothing to do with 
his death, it was some one who had a stronger motive 
than a lover’s impatience.” 

“Well, I suppose it does not matter much, as long as 
he is out of the way, how he was taken off. For my 
part I am glad that she is free at last and can marry 
the man she loves, for she suffered enough with Cas- 
tellara, who was a cruel, cold, selfish brute.” 

And so society discussed her, while she went about 
with a .happy face, and a comparatively happy heart, 
in spite of the twinges of conscience now and then, 
which she was becoming accustomed to. The stream 
of her life seemed to be running smoothly at last, and 
so she surrendered herself to it, contented to be carried 
along over these verdant plains and sweet, flowery 
vales of pleasure, never dreaming of the broad, stormy 
ocean before her, or the lurid, tempestuous heavens 
above her. 

When Yaldinier entered the reception-room at the 
Castellara palace, on the day of which we are writing, 
he found Enrico waiting to be announced. On seeing 


HUGO CONFESSES. 


327 


Nordiskoff he rose and came toward him with an air 
of cold restraint, quite different from his usual frank, 
pleasant manner, saying, “ I am glad to meet you, for 
I have been trying to see you all day.” 

“ Indeed, Enrico ; then how is it I have missed 
3 ^ou ? ” returned Yaldimer offering his hand cordially, 
which his companion appeared not to see, for he did 
not advance to take it. 

I wish to have a little private conversation with 
you. Count Nordiskoff;” the Count used by Enrico 
was ominous, and Y aldimer felt a tremor of guilt pass 
over him. 

“ Yery well, my friend, I am at your service, if the 
Duchess is not awaiting me.” 

“ She will excuse you when she learns that 1 am 
speaking to you on her behalf,” said Enrico opening 
the door of the library and making a sign for Nordis- 
koff to enter. “ Let us speak here, where we shall not 
be overheard.” 

The room was empty. At one end was a hand- 
somely carved screen before an alcove, and near this 
the two men took their seats. 

“ Your manner forebodes something unpleasant, 
Enrico,” said Yaldimer lightly, “ but pray speak 
quickly, for I am impatient to see your cousin.” 

Your impatience now is quite remarkable, seeing 
you controlled it so admirably during your long visit 


328 


HUGO CONFESSES. 


in the Via San Gallo,” returned Enrico with cutting 
coldness. 

“ Ah ! then you have been spying upon my actions, 
an occupation truly worthy of you. Count Altimonti.” 

“ That I have not done, as you well know, but acci- 
dentally I have learned of your affair with the hunch- 
back’s daughter, and I wish you to explain your con- 
duct to me, as I am the only natural protector of the 
Duchess of Castellara, whose promised husband you 
are.” 

‘‘I am not accustomed to explain my private affairs 
to any one ; I therefore beg that you will excuse me 
and allow me to say good morning,” said Nordiskoff, 
angrily rising and turning toward the door. 

‘‘ I cannot allow you to leave until you hear what I 
have to say,” returned Enrico resolutely. “ When my 
cousin, the Duchess, told me of her engagement to you, 
she also spoke of some suspicion she had concerning 
your interest in this beautiful and innocent girl. I 
will avow that previously I, too, had some reason to 
think that you entertained a passion for her unworthy 
of you ; but circumstances changed my opinion, and I 
thought I had wronged you, so when the Duchess 
asked me solemnly and earnestly if I believed you 
were free from your infatuation for Hugo’s daughter, 
I assured her that you were, and so set her mind at 
ease on a matter that had caused her no little pain and 


HUGO CONFESSES, 


329 


anxiet 3 ^ Now I know that iinwittingl}^ I deceived her, 
that you are still in pursuit of this poor child, that it 
was through your instigation the attempt to abduct her 
was made, and that Castellara perished by the hand of 
her father for your fault instead of his own. All this 
I have learned, and I know that you visit her daily 
during her father’s absence, and that you profess a 
love for her which only belongs to the woman you are 
about to wed.” 

During Enrico’s speech his companion turned paler 
and paler, and when at last he paused for an answer, 
Yaldimer said, hoarsely and angrily: “I have heard 
enough ; I do not like to give an account of myself to 
you like a school-boy to his tutor. Yonr relation to the 
Duchess you believe gives you the right to exact ex- 
planations which she alone should demand. 1 will 
make them to her and not to you. I am not yet her 
husband ; until that time I am my own master, and 
shall do as I please in regard to the girl you speak of.” 

Then, by Heaven, you shall not.” 

“ Who will prevent me ? ” 

“ I will,” cried Enrico, his eyes flashing ominously. 

“ By what right, pray, do you exercise such author- 
ity?” 

“Hove the girl honorably, I have saved her from 
you once and I will again.” 

“ Good Heavens, this is too much,” said Nordiskoff, 


330 


HUGO CONFESSES. 


as pale as death and trembling with supj^ressed fury. 
“ My former friendship for you, Count Altimonti, my 
love for your cousin, have given me patience and en- 
abled me to control myself, but I can do so no longer. 
There is only one honorable way to settle our dispute. 
You understand what that is.*’ 

“ Gentlemen, I trust you will not quarrel on my 
account,” cried a clear, proud voice, and the Duchess 
o? Castellara stepped out from behind the screen, pale 
and haughty, but calm and self-possessed. “ Unfor- 
tunately I was reading here when you entered, and 
hearing my name a woman’s natural curiosity prompted 
me to listen. I have heard enough, and I beg that 
you will not connect me with the low-born girl about 
whom you are disputing.” 

I entreat you to allow me to explain the matter. 
Duchess,” cried Yaldimer, springing forward and 
attempting to take her hand. 

She waved him away coldly, while her steady, level 
gaze seemed to read his cowardly, sinful soul. “ There 
is no need of an explanation. I am to blame for trust- 
ing you. Spare me the humiliation of further remark 
upon the subject.” 

“ I regret, cousin,” said Enrico sorrowfully, “ that 
you have overheard this unfortunate conversation ; 
however, it has saved me the pain of telling you of 
my discovery.” 


HUGO CONFESSES. 


331 


“ It is all the same, Enrico ; 1 should have learned it 
some time, and it is better now than later. Count 
Yaldimer Nordiskoff, from this moment you have your 
freedom, and I trust you will find the happiness in it 
which you professed to enjoy with me; allow me to 
wish you good morning,” and with a haughty bow, she 
turned and left the room. 

Yaldimer looked after her with bewildered silence, 
then turning furiously upon Enrico, he cried : “ You 
shall suffer for this ; you shall hear from me again.” 

“ Whenever you like, 1 am at your service,” replied 
Enrico coldly ; and turning his back upon his former 
friend, he walked away, leaving him alone, the picture 
of bafiled rage, disappointment, and surprise. 

The Duchess of Castellara, when once out of the 
sight of the man she loved, forgot her pride and com- 
posure ; with a trembling step she reached the privacy 
of her own room, and, locking the door, she threw her- 
self into a chair, and covering her face, sobbed : “ It 
is over. I knew it could not last. I am not to be 
happy. A curse follows me and crushes me at every 
step. Oh, Yaldimer ! what a return for my patient, 
enduring love. Why should you, of all others, deceive 
and wound me so ? and for that ignorant child — that 
low-born beggar. My God ! how I forget my pride 
when I can weep after such an insult.” Then rising, 
she paced the fioor with fiarning eyes and clenched 


332 


HUGO CONFESSES. 


hands. “ No ! no ! I will not weep, 1 will be avenged. 
He shall never have her ; I will find some means to 
take her from him. She shall die before she shall be 
his. There must be some means of separating them. 
Let me think, 1 must not act hastily. Ah! there is 
another obstacle; Enrico, my cousin, loves her; he 
loves her, and he is my only friend, and I must not 
wound him to satisfy my pride and anger. No, I will 
help him to save her from Yaldimer, that will be the 
sweetest revenge I can have, to assist his rival to win 
her ; and yet I hate the girl, and would rather do her 
harm than good.’’ 

And Lisa, innocent, trusting child, while these 
dreadful complications were gathering around her, un- 
conscious of all the trouble she was causing, was think- 
ing fondly of Yaldimer, wishing the hours away until 
she should see him again, her tender heart fluttering 
with mingled love, fear, and sorrow, yet none the less 
resolved to obey her lover’s wishes, and to forsake all 
for him. 

It was nearly Ave Maria^ and Father Ilario, thankful 
that his day’s duties were over, was about stepping out 
of one of the confessionals in San Marco, when sud- 
denly Hugo, the hunchback, appeared before him, 
wild-eyed, haggard, and trembling. 

I have come to confess all,” he cried, without wait- 
ing for the priest to address him first. 


HUGO CONFESSES. 


333 


“ I expected you six months ago,” returned Father 
Ilario dryly ; “ but, thank God, it is never too late for 
His mercy.” 

“I intended to come then. I should have come 
'when I promised you, but I lacked the courage,” 
groaned the wretched creature, falling on his knees. 

“ Well, my son, as I said, it is not too late ; open 
your heart to me now ; keep nothing back, and I will 
try to gain pardon for you.” 

Then Hugo, covering his face, told, with a choking, 
hesitating voice, of his theft of the child that night 
near the Church of San Salvador ; and while he 
spoke Father Ilario listened intently, with a strange 
expression of interest, and a sudden kindling of his 
dull eyes. 

“ And you have never made any effort to discover 
the parents of the girl \ ” asked the priest, when he 
had finished speaking. 

“ Never, father ! I have rather tried to hide her 
from all the world, and I have made her and every one 
believe that she is my daughter.” 

“A terrible deception, and perhaps a terrible 
wrong to her. Have you no suspicion to whom she 
belongs ? ” 

“ None, whatever.” 

“ Was there nothing about the clothing that would 
indicate it ? ” 


334 


HUGO CONFESSES. 


‘‘There was only this, Father Ilario,” said Hugo, 
reluctantly drawing forth the clasp, that he had kept 
concealed so many years, and, putting it in the priest’s 
hand, looking about him timidly as he did so. 

“ A costly trinket, though small ; a coronet and 
legend. This will be a clue to discover the girl’s paren- 
tage.” 

“ Oh ! father, you do not mean to say that I must 
give her up, that they will take her away from me ? ” 

“ Certainly, if we can discover to whom she belongs, 
that is all the reparation you can make.” 

“ I will never make it,” cried Hugo furiously. 
“ Hever, never ! no one shall take her from me. She 
is mine. I have cared for her, and loved her, and you 
cannot make me give her up.” 

“My son, she is not yours,” replied the priest, 
sternly. “You stole her, and before God will forgive, 
you must make restitution.” 

“ Then, I never will be forgiven,” returned the 
hunchback, with sullen determination, “ for no living 
being shall take her from me.” 

“ Of what use your coming to me, then % It is an 
abominable mockery to God as well as the Church. 
My son, you must expect no blessing while you adhere 
to such a resolution. If you had stolen treasures from 
the King, would you expect his pardon while you 
retained them in your possession ? ” 


HUGO CONFESSES. 


336 


But she belongs to me ; her mother was dead when 
I took her, therefore she is mine.’’ 

“ My son, the woman yon took her from was not her 
mother, and more than that she was not dead.” 

Madre di Dio ! How know yon that ? ” cried 
Hugo, looking around, his face distorted with terror. 

“ Because, I found the woman myself, unconscious, 
under the cypress near San Salvador. ‘ It was but a 
day before I left for Borne, and near nightfall. She 
was lying quite insensible, in a fit caused by a long 
journey in the excessive heat of the day. Happening 
to have a flask of strong liqueur in my pocket, I raised 
her head and forced some of it between her lips, which 
soon revived her. On returning to herself, her first 
words were : ‘ Where is the child ? ’ Thinking that her 
mind tvas wandering, I tried to soothe her, telling her 
that there was no child with her; then she became 
half wild, and declared that when she lost conscious- 
ness she had a babe in her arms, and that some one had 
stolen it.” 4 

“Hid she tell you to whom the child belonged?” 
asked Hugo in a husky voice. 

“ Ho, she did not, though I pressed her closely, she 
did not seem inclined to tell me. She only said that 
the babe had been given her to nurse, that it was no 
common child, and she was paid well for keeping it, 
on the condition that she would send her own infant 


336 


HUGO CONFESSES. 


away and devote herself entirely to this child, which 
she agreed to do; but her intense maternal longing 
got the better of her prudence, and she had walked 
miles into the country, taking the nursling with her, to 
get one glimpse of her own babe ; and on her way 
back she had fallen insensible under the cypress, over- 
come by heat and fatigue.” 

Do you remember the month and the year that 
this occurred ? ” asked the hunchback, clinging desper- 
ately to the hope that the priest’s dates and his own 
might not agree. 

“ Oh ! yes, perfectly. It was but the day before I 
left for Rome, and I had much to do on that night, and 
the poor woman delayed me with her trouble. Let 
me see, I left for the holy city July 7th, 1823, there- 
fore this was on the eve of the 6th day.” 

Hugo groaned and clenched his hands wildly, then 
trying to control himself he asked, “ Should you know 
the woman if you saw her again ? ” 

Yes, I tiling I should, for I brought a lantern from 
the church to examine every spot, thinking that the 
child might be concealed among the trees, for it was 
already so dark that we could not tell what was fiear us, 
it was then I took pains to study her face, which vras 
an uncommon one, for I wished to recognize her if I 
met her again.” 

“Was she of oval outline, pale and thin, with broad 


HUGO CONFESSES. 337 

high forehead, and a black mole near the outer corner 
of the left eye ? ’’ asked Hugo, in a trembling voice. 

The very same ; then you have seen her ? ’’ 

“Yes, I have seen her,” returned the hunchback, 
looking as though he would burst into a frenzy of rage 
at any moment. 

“ If you know where she is now, and can find her, 
we might learn all about the girl from her ; doubtless 
she knew who the child’s parents were.” 

“ I did not come here to ask you to discover my 
Lisa’s parents. I came here to unburden my soul, and 
seek some comfort from religion,” cried the hunch- 
back, now fairly beside himself with fear and despair. 

“ Wretched man, have I not told you that I can give 
you no consolation until you do all you can to make 
reparation for your sin? If you know where this 
woman is to be found, it is your duty to confess your 
fault to her, and ask her assistance in restoring the 
child to her parents, if they are living.” 

“ I cannot do it. It is no use to ask me. You will 
not betray my secret. Father Ilario. Let me keep the 
child,” pleaded the poor wretch, joining his hands, and 
looking imploringly at the priest. “ I am a most 
miserable creature. See, I am penitent enough, I will 
confess all. I am a greater sinner than you think. I 
am a murderer.” 

Holy Mother ! ” cried the priest, crossing himself. 


338 


HUGO CONFESSES, 


“ Yes, to save this child from misfortune, I killed 
the Duke of Castellara. What more could I do to 
show my love for her, than to stain my soul with an- 
other’s blood.” 

Unfortunate man, you are indeed a sinner, and 
only God’s mercy can save you from the just punish- 
ment of your crimes. Begin your penance at once. 
If you have any clue whereby you can discover the 
parents of the girl you call yours, follow it to the end, 
and spare no pains to make all the restitution in your 
power. Humble yourself in the dust; fast, and pray, 
and give of your substance for masses for the repose of 
the soul of your unhappy victim.” 

“Father, I will do all you wish me to do. I will 
scourge myself, I will perform any penance you 
inflict upon me, I will be humble and patient, I will 
give half I have to the poor, I will sleep on thorns, 
and walk on sharp points that will puncture my feet at 
every step, if God will pardon me, and give me peace, 
and allow me to keep my Lisa.” 

“ Wretched sinner, do you think you can make a 
compromise with the most High ? ” said Father Ilario, 
sternly. “ If you do not repent. His vengeance will 
follow you as sure as you live, and you will be robbed 
of your idol in some other way.” 

“ Yes, you are right, the avenger is on my track. I 
must lose her,” he cried, with frenzy. “ Only to-day, 


HUGO CONFESSES. 


339 


I heard her saj to another that nothing but death 
could keep her from him. She loves another better 
than she loves me, and she will leave me to go with 
him. This thought has turned my brain. There is a 
fire here that tortures and consumes me — perhaps I am 
mad ; but no, I cannot be, because I am conscious of 
my suffering. 1 know all. I remember all. My mind 
is clear and strong. Oh, Father! tell me how shall I 
be saved from myself ? ” 

‘‘ My son, I have told you,” returned the old priest, 
compassionatel 3 ^ Only God can help you. You are 
not mad, but your sin-sick soul is in torment. Your 
conscience burns and consumes you like a scorching 
fire. Ask the Holy Mother to shed her tears of divine 
compassion upon you, that the flames within may be 
quenched.” 

“ I cannot pray ! I tell you that I cannot pray 1 ” 
cried Hugo, starting from his knees and looking wildly 
around. “ Let me go, the pain gnawing at my heart 
will not allow me to rest. Something urges me on, 
and I must obey. 1 hear a voice calling me ; it is my 
child. Ah 1 I will go to her ; she is my hope, my 
salvation.” 

‘^He is a blasphemer, or he is mad,” said Father 
Ilario, as he watched him rush away across the church 
and disappear through the door, as though the demon 
of retribution pursued him. 


340 


THE STATUE OF HEBE. 


When he was out of sight the priest took the clasp 
from his pocket, and examined it carefully. “ He has 
forgotten the trinket in his excitement. A coronet, 
with a legend. I know to whom it belongs, or I cannot 
read Latin rightly ; now, if I could but discover the 
woman with the mole near her left eye, the hunchback 
might learn that his Lisa belongs to an old and power- 
ful family, instead of being the friendless waif he 
thought her.” 


CHAPTER XXII. 

THE STATUE OF HEBE. 

? can be the matter with your father, Sig- 
rina?” said Signora Pia, the morning after 
igo’s confession to Father Ilario. “ All 
night long I heard him walking the floor and groaning 
from time to time like one in dreadful pain. I could 
nor bear to listen to it, and so I got up and went to 
his door softly, to inquire if he were ill, and I could do 
anything for him ; but he was so angry, and looked so 
wild and haggard when he answered my knock, that I 
was fairly afraid of him.” 

‘‘What did he say. Signora? Was he ill?” cried 
Lisa with sudden pallor. , 



THE STATUE OF HEBE. 


341 


‘‘ He told me to go away and not disturb him. I 
said that I feared he was in pain, and he answered, 
‘ Yes, I am in pain, but no one can cure me.’ Then 
he closed the door with a heavy bang, and left me 
standing without.” 

“ How strange ! What could he have meant ? ” re- 
turned Lisa anxiously, “ I will go to him and inquire.” 

“ He is not in his room, Signorina ; 1 heard him go 
out at daybreak.” 

“ Poor papa ! What can ail him ? Have you not 
noticed. Signora, that he has never been quite the same 
since that dreadful night we were so frightened com- 
ing from church ? ” 

“ It gave him a great shock certainly, as well it 
might, and no doubt he has worried about it, beside he 
has worked very closely lately on his statue, and that 
has affected his nerves ; but now it is done. To-day 
the Russian noble comes to pay him for it, and look at 
it for the last time, which will be a relief to your 
father, though I shall miss seeing his handsome face ; 
when 1 open the door for him, he always has a pleas- 
ant smile and a kind word, and he must liave a gener- 
ous heart to pay such a price for a piece of marble.” 

“ But papa will be rich, and will not have to work so 
hard after he is paid this money,” returned Lisa, looking 
away to hide the color that mounted to her cheeks. 

“Yes, ten thousand scudi is a handsome fortune, 


342 


THE STATUE OF HEBE. 


and he will be able to give you a suitable dower when 
you find a husband.” 

“ Don’t speak of that, Signora. I am anxious about 
papa. I wish he would return. Where can he have 
gone so early, and why does he remain out when the 
heat is so oppressive ? ” 

“ Doubtless he will enter soon, for he has eaten 
nothing, and while I am waiting to serve tlie meal I 
will step around to San Marco, and say a prayer for 
him, that all may go well on this important day ! ” 

‘‘And remember me also while you are praying,” 
said Lisa, in a tremulous voice. 

“ Certainly I will,” said the good woman, stooping to 
kiss the girl as she went out. 

As Signora Pia entered the Church of San Marco, 
an elderly priest, with a round, pleasant face, and a 
short, stout figure, was slowly descending the steps, 
fanning himself with his broad-brimmed hat as he 
walked. With a sudden exclamation he stopped in 
front of the woman and laid a detaining hand on her 
arm, while he looked into her face with the closest 
scrutiny. 

The pale, thin features of Signora Pia turned paler 
than usual under the priest’s searching gaze, and. turn- 
ing her head aside she said, trembling visibly: 

“Pray allow me to pass. Father, for I have but little 
time for my devotions.” 


THE STATUE OF HEBE. 


343 


Do not be in a hurry, my daughter, I wish a word 
with you. If I mistake not I have seen you before.” 

‘‘ Possibly you have, since I come here daily to 
pray,” returned the woman evasively. 

“ Enter this confessional with me, where our conver- 
sation cannot be overheard,” said Father Ilario, for it 
was he, as he turned and retraced his steps close by 
the woman’s side, who looked around anxiously, as 
though she would like to escape. 

“I did not come to confess. Father, I wish to say 
but a short prayer and then return home, where my 
duties await me.” 

“ You need not be unwilling to listen to me, I will 
not detain you long, for I have but a few questions to 
ask you. Have you ever heard aught of the child that 
was stolen from you more than sixteen years ago, under 
the cypress trees near the Church of San Salvador ! ” 

I ? What do you mean. Father ? Pray explain, 
for your question confuses me.” 

Ah ! my good woman, do not affect to misunder- 
stand me. You know very well what I mean, and 
you need not fear me. I am your friend now, as I 
was on that night when I assisted you to search for 
the babe.” 

“ Pardon me, Father, I was not certain that you 
were the same, and I feared some one who was not my 
friend had discovered me and would betray my secret.” 


344 


THE STATUE OF HEBE. 


“ JS’o, your secret is safe with me ; if it is still a 
secret. Then you have not found the child ? ’’ 

“I have not, Father; for years I was absent from 
Florence. I dared not remain here after that misfor- 
tune ; and I preferred that those to whom the child 
belonged should believe that we had disappeared to- 
gether. My own infant died suddenly the very day 
after my nursling was stolen, and so I had nothing to 
keep me here. For eight years I wandered about in 
distant cities until poverty and homesickness drove me 
back. Since I returned I have found a shelter be- 
neath the roof of a kind-hearted man who pitied my 
forlorn condition, where I have lived in seclusion un- 
der an assumed name. He has but one child, and I 
have been like a mother to her. He trusts and esteems 
me and I have a comfortable, respectable home ; there- 
fore, father, I pray that you will not injure me by re- 
vealing my past misfortunes.” 

‘‘ Should you be glad to hear of the child again, and 
restore her to her parents if you could ? ” 

“ Yes, indeed ; it would be the happiest day of my 
life, if I could know that no harm had come to the 
nursling, and that she was living and well.” 

‘‘ Do you know who the parents of the child are ? ” 
“Ho, Father, I know nothing of the parents ; but I 
know who gave the child into my keeping, and to that 
person I should restore her if she were found.” 


THE STATUE OF HEBE. 


345 


“ Was there anything about her by which you could 
identify her ? ” 

Signora Pia thought deeply for a moment, and then 
replied : “ The only thing peculiar that I can remem- 
ber, was a small gold clasp that fastened its little robe 
at the throat.” 

‘‘ Should you know it if you saw it again ? ” 

“ Yes, I am sure I should. It was engraved with a 
coronet, and had an inscription, which was too small to 
read with the naked eye.” 

“ Is this the trinket ? ” asked the priest, laying the 
clasp in Signora Pia’s hand. 

“ Holy Mother 1 it is the very one. Tell me, pray, 
bow did you come by it ? ” cried the woman, excitedly. 

Only - yesterday I discovered the man who stole 
the child from you while you were insensible. He 
thought you were dead, and so considered that he had 
a sort of right to take the infant and keep her, which 
he has done, caring for her very tenderly, I should 
judge, until now. She has grown into a beautiful girl, 
always believing him to be her father, and it seems 
that he has never felt any compunctions of conscience 
until the present time ; and yet, he is resolved not to 
give her up voluntarily, feeling for her an exclusive 
and savage affection. He is an unfortunate, half-in- 
sane creature of wonderful genius, deformed and un- 
healthy in body and mind ” 


346 


TEE STATUE OF EEBE. 


“ Madre di Dio ! can it be Signor Hugo, the sculp- 
tor?” cried the woman, trembling with surprise and 
apprehension, 

“ Yes, he is the man ; and the girl he calls Lisa is 
the child he stole from you;” 

“ Can it be possible ? and I never suspected it ; but 
how should I ? He told me that she was his daughter, 
and that her mother was dead, and I believed him. 
She is as delicate and white as the flower she is named 
for, and he is dark and heavy in feature ; truly, a dif- 
ferent blood must run in his veins. Wliy did I never 
think of it, before ? ” 

‘‘ He is devotedly attached to the girl, it seems.” 

“ He worships her. I never saw a human being 
adore another as he does this lovely child.” 

“ Poor, unfortunate man, it will be a terrible blow 
for him if he is obliged to give her up.” 

I fear that it will either kill him or drive him in- 
sane,’* returned Signora Pia, wiping her eyes. “ And 
to think that it is through me he must suffer ; he has 
been so good to me. Would to God that I could spare 
him the pain of parting with the child.” 

“ That you cannot do ; it is your duty to use every 
means to restore her to those you received her from.” 

“ You are right. Father. My own conscience tells 
me plainly what I must do, and I shall not hesitate a 
moment.” 


THE STATUE OF HEBE. 


347 


Are you sure the person who entrusted the child 
to your care is still living, and that you can find him 
or her, which ever it was ? ” 

Yes, Father. I know where to go to find the per- 
son, for I have suffered enough from dread of being 
discovered, since I returned to Florence. Once I have 
seen her, only once ; but, thank God, she did not rec- 
ognize me. Kow that I know where the child is, I 
shall go to her without fear, and confess the whole.” 

‘‘ But you must not let Hugo know of your intention 
or he will be desperate, and may commit some rash 
act that will prevent our doing justice to the girl,” said 
Father Ilario, thoughtfully. I know his strange, un- 
governable character, and at present he is in a condition 
of peculiar mental excitement ; therefore, if he sus- 
pected tliat measures were being taken to restore the 
girl to her lawful guardians, he might conceal her, where 
it would be impossible to find her.” 

“ This accounts for his restlessness last nighft j he 
never slept, but paced the fioor and groaned like one in 
agony, and when I went to him he drove me away sav- 
agely. I knew not what to make of it, but now I un- 
derstand it all.” 

“ Through my description of you, he learned from 
me yesterday that you were the woman from whom he 
took the child, and whom he believed to be dead, and 
that doubtless added to his anxiety and trouble.” 


348 


THE STATUE OF HEBE. 


“ Merciful Heaven I no wonder then that he glared 
upon me like a wild beast; Father, I fear to return to 
his house,” said Signora Pia, trembling with dread. 

“ Do not shrink from your duty, my good woman. 
Heaven will protect you, and I will assist you all that 
lies in my power. Go, now, and learn what you can 
concerning the parents of the child, and return here 
and report your success to me ; then, I will advise you 
what to do after, and I doubt not before nightfall that 
a mother’s heart will be made glad by discovering a 
long-lost child.” 

After Father Ilario and Signora Pia had left the 
church and were out of sight, a bent and haggard crea- 
ture, with wild eyes and drawn face, stepped out from 
behind the confessional, where he had overheard the 
conversation that had taken place between the priest 
and the woman, and shaking his fist menacingly in the 
direction that they had taken, he muttered, in a choked 
voice : And she too, the outcast that I trusted, and 
loaded with kindness, that I sheltered when she was 
homeless, and fed when she was hungry, she will con- 
spire to rob me of my child. O viper ! that I have 
warmed at my fire, you think to turn and sting me ; but 
I will protect myself from you, I will save my idol 
from your cruel fangs, your poisonous words shall not 
V enter her ears. She shall not hear you say that the 
father she loves is a monster, a thief, a murderer, and 


THE STATUE OF HEBE. 


349 


more, that he is not her father, but a vile impos- 
tor. I will defeat your well-laid plans ; you shall not 
have her — no mother’s heart shall be made glad, no 
lover’s arms shall enfold her this night, for I will 
take her beyond their reach, where she will be safe 
forever.” 

Lisa lay on the sofa in her room anxiously awaiting 
the return of her father or Signora Pia, but as the hours 
wore away and neither came, the poor girl’s mind was 
filled with misgivings of the most harrowing character. 
What could ail her father ? Had he discovered her secret, 
and was he engaged in some plan to prevent her from 
leaving her home that night with Nordiskoff ? Or was he 
ill and unhappy from some cause that she knew nothing 
of? He certainly was not himself. Of late he had 
avoided her, or treated her with a sort of savage affec- 
tion. She had detected him often looking after her, as 
though he would devour her, with a wild, hungry look, 
such as she had sometimes seen in the eyes of the tigers 
at the zoological gardens, and she had trembled with a 
strange fear in spite of her love for him. She thought 
of what Hordiskoff had said about his not being her 
father, and suddenly she felt a revulsion of feeling 
toward him. Then, the memory of all his goodness to 
her, his tender affection during her helpless childhood, 
his gentle care and patience, melted her heart, and tears 
rose unbidden to her eyes. “ I am ill repaying him to 


350 


THE STATUE OF HEBE. 


leave him,’’ she thought, but when I return I will be 
so good and loving that he will forgive me and be 
happy again.” 

At that moment she heard the door open, and a 
heavy, uneven step crossed the studio. “ It is he, at 
last,” she cried, and, springing up, she ran to meet him, 
her face tender with her recent remorse and sorrow. 
But when her eyes fell upon his suffering countenance 
she uttered a cry of dismay. 

Oh ! papa, what ails you, are you ill 1 ” 

“ I have been ill, my child,” he replied, with a wan 
smile ; ‘‘ but I am better now.” 

“ Why have you remained so long abroad in this 
terrible heat ? ” 

“ Affairs of importance have detained me.” 

‘‘ And Signora Pia, where can she be ? She went to 
mass two hours ago, and has not yet returned.” 

‘^Sleeping over her prayers, in the cool, quiet 
church, I dare say,” returned the hunchback, with a 
hollow laugh. 

‘‘ The time has seemed so long since I have waited,” 
said the girl, with a heavy sigh. 

“ You are not well, my darling,” and Hugo came 
close to his daughter, taking her hand in his, and, look- 
ing anxiously into her face. Your hands are burn- 
ing, and your cheeks are flushed.” 

“ It is the heat, papa, and my anxiety about you.” 


THE STATUE OF HEBE, 


351 


“ Then you really love your poor father enough to 
be anxious ? ” 

“Oh I papa, how can you doubt it?” she cried, 
bursting into tears. 

In a moment Hugo had his arms about her with a 
close, savage clasp, kissing away her tears passionately, 
while he said, in a voice intense with emotion; “ Say 
that you love me, my Lisa, say it but once. Let me 
hear it clear and sweet as you said it in childhood ; my 
ears long for the sound. Say it, I entreat you.” 

“ I love you, papa, you know I love you,” cried the 
girl, struggling to free herself from his close clasp ; 
“but you terrify me with your violence, with your 
strange manner.” 

“That is enough; thank you, my sweet child, for 
those blessed words, and forgive me if I am impulsive 
and rude. You know T am not like others,” said 
Hugo, with a sudden change from passionate eagerness 
to extreme sweetness and gentleness. “ Ah ! I have 
distressed you, your eyes are full of tears, and your 
cheeks are hot and flushed. You are tired, you are 
feverish ; lie down and I will bring you a cooling 
draught.” 

Lisa obeyed him willingly, for her anxiety, her own 
painful thoughts, her fatlier’s strange agitation, and 
the contemplated departure with Kordiskoff, had all 
unnerved her to such a degree that her temples 


352 


TBE 8TATUE OF HEBE. 


throbbed painfully, and her eyes burned with the tears 
that would come to them in spite of every effort to re- 
press them. 

When her father returned with the cooling draught 
she took it and drank it gratefully, smiling her 
thanks as she lay back on her pillow ; then a delicious 
languor stole over her, a sweet sense of repose. Her 
father sat by her side smoothing her hair tenderly ; 
and she saw his face, his strange, solemn eyes, his look 
of intense love, until her lids fell, and a heavy, peaceful 
sleep wrapped her in its embrace. 

Punctually at the appointed hour Count Yaldimer 
presented himself at the studio of Hugo to express his 
final approval of the statue, and to pay into his hands 
the sum agreed upon. 

The hunchback opened the door himself, and, in- 
stead of his usual sullen indifference, his manner was 
that of one greatly elated, and his eyes sparkled with a 
ferocious joy. 

“ Ah ! the mercenary creature,” thought Yaldimer; 
now that he is about to touch the pecuniary reward of 
his labor, he is more delighted than he ever has been at 
my most extravagant praises of his work. How 
strange it is, that his divine genius can be united to 
such a low, sordid nature. My sweet Lisa need not 
mourn to leave this hideous deformity, the money will 
console him, it will be enough for him ; he will have 


THE STATUE OF HEBE. 


353 


no further need of her beauty to win him wealth ; he 
has traded upon it long enough, and soon it will be 
mine, and I shall keep it close enough from his covet- 
ous eyes.” 

At the far end of the studio hung the heavy crimson 
curtain, behind which the artist always worked, and 
which was now lowered before the completed statue. 
Count Yaldimer walked toward it, and was about to 
lift it, when Hugo touched his arm, and drew him 
away, saying, as he offered him a chair, “ Do not be 
impatient, Signor Count, I have something to say to 
you before you examine the statue.” 

“ Yery well,” returned Hordiskoff, throwing himself 
into a chair a little impatiently, for he was in no 
mood on this day for tedious conversation, when but a 
few hours stood between him and his long-anticipated 
happiness. “ I will listen if you will be brief, for I 
am in haste.” 

Hugo drew his chair near, and leaning forward, and 
fixing his wild eyes upon the Count’s calm face, he 
asked with startling intensity in his voice, “ Do you 
know. Signore, what I love best in the world ? ” 

“I? how should I know? I know nothing of you 
beyond your genius ; but if I should venture an opin- 
ion, I should say that it must be your daughter, the 
lovely model of all your works.” 

“Yes, one would naturally think so; but it is not 


354 


THE STATUE OF HEBE. 


Lisa that I love best, for she is not my child. I never 
had a wife ; I never had a child. I stole her for a 
model, when she was but an infant.” 

‘‘ Wretched man, why have you not confessed this 
before ? ” 

Hush, do not interrupt me. I have kept the girl 
only for the wealth she brought me, for it has been 
her beauty as much as my talent that has raised me 
from want and misery. Lovely and affectionate 
though she is, I do not adore her as much as I do 
what I create from her. Every statue I model is a 
part of myself, and every one I dispose of takes a part 
of my heart and life with it. I know your opinion of 
me. Signore ; you think I am a sordid, avaricious crea- 
ture, who loves money more than his art ; but you are 
mistaken. I love my art more than money, and I will 
prove it to you. This statue that I have just finished 
is the most perfect thing that I have ever executed. I 
worship it, and I cannot part with it.” 

“What!” cried Yaldimer, “do you not intend to 
keep to your agreement with me ? ” 

“'Yes, if you insist upon my keeping it; but I 
appeal to your generosity.” 

“ I cannot be generous in this matter. I have 
ordered the statue, and I am here to pay you for it ; 
now let us consider the matter settled definitely.” 

A strange expression passed over Hugo’s face, and 


TEE STATUE OF HEBE. 


355 


he said almost entreatingly, Oh, Signore ! cannot you 
spare me this, the only thing I love — this work of my 
hands, of my brain, and of my heart? I have created 
it, and 1 never loved anything as much as I love this. 
As greatly as I desire wealth, I prefer to resign the 
large sum you are about to pay me, and keep the 
Hebe. Cannot 1 make a compromise with you ? Can- 
not I give you something in its place?” and the 
hunchback leaned nearer to his companion, looking 
into his eyes with a fiendish leer. 

Count Yaldimer changed color, but made no reply. 

Ha ! ha ! 1 have discovered your secret ; you love 
Lisa, you love my model ; now let me make a fair pro- 
posal, give me the ten thousand scudi for her, and 
allow me to retain her image.” 

“ Fiend! ” cried Nordiskoff. “Would you sell this 
lovely girl ? ” 

“ I would rather part with her than with the Hebe, 
and you would rather have her. Would you not ? ” 

“ I prefer her to anything in the world, for I love 
her,” said the Count. “ How you have discovered my 
secret I know not, and I care not. I worship her, but 
I will not bargain for her.” 

“ I cannot give up both the statue and the model ; 
no, I cannot,” returned Hugo with fearful emphasis. 
“ Choose, then, one or the other, for I am resolved to 
keep one.” 


356 


TEE STATUE OF HEBE. 


“Well, then/’ returned Yaldimer, after a moment’s 
thought. “ You may keep the statue, and promise me 
not to raise any obstacles to keep Lisa from me, and 
you may have the ten thousand sciidi also.” 

“ Ah ! Signor Count, now you are noble and gene- 
rous,” cried the hunchback in a tone of wild joy. 
“You may have the girl, I will give her to you with 
my own hands ; but before I bring her to you, I pray 
that you will do me the favor to look at the statue, for 
you have not seen it since I put my choicest touches 
upon it. Ah ! it is life-like, it is wonderful.” 

“ What demon of avarice possesses this hideous crea- 
ture? He seems transformed into a greedy fiend,” 
thought Yaldimer, as he followed him to the spot 
where the statue stood concealed behind the heavy 
drapery. 

With his long, trembling fingers clutching the cur- 
tain, the hunchback turned, and, looking full in the 
Count’s face, he said, in a hollow voice that swept over 
him like an icy wind : This is the fairest, the best 
loved thing I possess. It is as beautiful as though it 
were fresh from the hand of God. It is my work. 
Behold it ! ” and with one sweep of his hand he flung 
the drapery aside, and revealed what it had covered. 

Count Yaldimer stood transfixed, white and cold, for 
instead of the radiant Hebe, the goddess of youth, the 
cupbearer of Jupiter, he saw the pale, dead form of 


THE STATUE OF HEBE. 


357 


Lisa extended on a conch, her lovely figure veiled by 
the golden drapery of her hair, her hands folded, her 
face upturned to heaven, and a smile of matchless 
sweetness on her beautiful lips. With a groan of 
agony he seized the trembling hunchback, and, dashing 
him aside, he cried : “ Wretch ! fiend ! is this your 
work ? Is this the way you have robbed me of her 
love ? ” 

A hollow, mocking laugh behind him turned his 
blood cold in his veins. 

‘‘ Yes, this is the way I am revenged ; here is the 
treasure you have bought. I loved her as you never 
dreamed of loving her. I worshipped her as saints 
worship the Mother of God. I toiled for her to win 
wealth and honor, that she might share it with me. I 
steeped my hands in the blood of a fellow-creature, 
thinking to save her from him, and you were the one 
I should have killed ; you were the one who stole her 
love from me, to ruin her and cast her aside when you 
were weary of her. To-night, you were to take her 
from me. I heard your honeyed lies, your false prom- 
ises, and I resolved to put her beyond your reach. 
The last face she saw on earth was mine, her last smile 
was for me, her last word of love sounded in my ear. 
Now you may take her body, for her soul is safe with 
God beyond the power of your despoiling. My lily, 
my white, stainless lily, you will live in paradise, while 


368 


THE STATUE OF HEBE. 


the wretch that would have ruined you moans in tor- 
ment.” 

There were voices at the door, some one was enter- 
ing, and Nordiskoff, looking as through a thick mist, 
saw the Duchess of Castellara, pale, wide-eyed, and 
excited, followed by Signora Pia, and a woman in the 
dress of a nun. 

“ Where is she, bring her to me,” cried the Duchess, 
looking bewildered at the group around the couch. 
Then, seeing the extended form of the girl, with a 
piercing scream she sprang forward and threw herself 
on her knees, pressing her lips to the immobile face, 
while she moaned, “ My child, my child.” 

Count Yal dimer heard no more, for the black mist 
closed around him, a sound like many waters surged in 
his ears, his limbs tottered under him, and fearing that 
his senses were deserting him he gave one last look at 
the beautiful still face, and then fled from the room, 
followed by the frenzied laugh of the hunchback. 


CBUCE 8ALU8:^ 


359 


CHAPTER XXIII. 

“a ceuce salus.” 

jllEN Signora Pia left the Chnrch of San 
1 Marco, she went directly to the Convent of 
the Sacred Heart, and entering the public re- 
ception-room she asked if she might see Sister Prudenza 
immediately, concerning a matter of the greatest impor- 
tance. The nun in attendance demurred at first, saying 
that the sister was very w^eary from watching all night 
with a poor sufferer, but finally, on seeing how anxious 
the visitor was, she summoned her. 

When Sister Prudenza entered the room. Signora 
Pia trembled visibly, and her voice faltered so as to be 
hardly audible as she said, “ I have something of im- 
portance to communicate to you. May I talk with 
you in private ? ” 

“ Certainly, my friend, come into this inner room,” 
returned the nun in a gentle, pleasant voice, while at 
the same time she studied the visitor’s face closely. 

When the door was closed and the two were alone, 
Signora Pia threw aside her veil and said, Sister 
Prudenza, I see that you do not recognize me.” 

“ Xo, I cannot remember you, though your face and 


360 


“-4 CBUCE SALUSy 


voice are familiar,” replied the nun with a puzzled, 
anxious look. 

‘‘ I am Pia Passerelli.” 

‘‘ Ah ! Holy Mother, why did I not know you at 
lirst ? I did not suppose it was possible to forget you, 
for througli you I have suffered enough.” 

“ Forgive me, sister, I was not to blame ; God knows 
1 was not.” 

‘‘ Where is the child I confided to your care as a 
most sacred trust ? ” 

‘‘ She is living and well, sister.” 

“ And why have you kept me in ignorance of her all 
these years ? ” 

‘‘ Because I knew not of her whereabouts myself.” 

“ You talk in riddles ; I pray you, speak quickly and 
clearly, for my soul is full of impatience.” 

“ I speak the truth, sister ; I have but to-day dis- 
covered the child.” 

“ Then you lost her ? ” 

‘‘ She was stolen from me.” 

“ Then why, in the name of the Blessed Mother, did 
you not tell me ? Why did you leave me all these 
years in such dreadful uncertainty?” 

I feared to come to you and tell you that I had lost * 
the child through disobeying your orders. When you 
gave her to me, you forbid my ever leaving her alone, 
you made me promise that I would never take her 


CBUGE SALUS: 


361 


beyond the city, which I did on the day that she was 
stolen from me. I went into the country to see my 
own child, who was ill, and returning I was overcome 
with fatigue and lost consciousness by the wayside. 
"Wlien I recovered the babe was gone.” 

“And you made no effort to find her ? ” 

“ I knew not what to do ; my own abandoned infant 
died, and I was half insane. So I left Florence and 
did not return for eight years.” 

“ And, in the mean time, what had become of the 
child I intrusted to your care ? ” 

“ A lonely, deformed man, living in a little cottage 
on San Miniato found me unconscious on the wayside, 
and, believing me to be dead, he took the child and 
carried it to his home, where he reared her in secret, 
carefully and tenderly, loving her as his own child, 
which he represented her to be. By a most singular 
coincidence, this same man, when I returned to Flor- 
ence after eight years of wandering, pitying my pov- 
erty and forlorn condition, gave me a home, with the 
child, under his own roof, where I have lived ever 
since, a companion and mother to the girl who has 
grown up a very angel of goodness and beauty.” 

“ Holy Yirgin ! this is a strange history,” returned 
Sister Prudenza, crossing herself devoutly. “And 
plainly shows a Divine Providence in its mysterious 
ordering. I had long ago ceased to believe that either 
16 


362 


A CBUCE SALUS: 


you or the child were living. After your disappear- 
ance, I traced you to the country place you visited, and 
learned there that a woman and child had died sud- 
denly. The woman answered your description, and 
the infant, I thought, must be your nursling.” 

‘‘And the mother of the babe, did she believe it was 
dead ? ” 

“Yes, poor, unhappy young creature, I thought it 
best to represent to her that it was dead beyond a 
doubt, for I feared the uncertainty and anxiety would 
kill her. She had been privately married and had 
lost her husband before the child was born, therefore, 
it seemed advisable to set her mind at rest on that 
point, for she had trouble enough in concealing her 
sorrow and her secret from her father, who was a 
stern, tyrannical man, as well as from the world, that 
would have been most unmerciful to her. She came 
to me in her trouble, for she was educated within these 
sacred walls, and I have been like a mother to her. 
When the child was born I gave it to you to be nursed, 
thinking that, after you had suffered, and I had be- 
friended you, I could trust it with you more safely 
than with any other. Then think of my bitter sorrow 
and disappointment when, after a few weeks, you sud- 
denly disappeared with the infant I had confided so 
solemnly to your care.” 

“ But you see. Sister Prudenza, that I was not to 


GBUGE SALU8: 


363 


blame for the loss of the babe,” said Signora Pia, 
wiping away her tears. 

“ Perhaps not for the misfortune of losing the child, 
but you were to blame in not making the loss known 
to me at the time.” 

“ Certainly that was a sin, and I have shed tears 
enough for it to wash it away. But I trust it is not 
too late to restore the girl to her mother, whom I hope 
is still living.” 

“ Yes, she is living, and she is free now to acknowl- 
edge her child before all the world, for her father is 
dead, and she is mistress of her own fortune. She is 
noble, rich and honored, but she is unhappy. Only 
yesterday she came to me and wept here on my bosom, 
which has always been her refuge in trouble. Her 
heart is empty, for she has neither husband nor chil- 
dren, and this girl, the daughter of the young husband 
she idolized, will cbmfort her desolate soul.” 

“ I am thankful that all may yet be well, and to 
show my gratitude I will devote my life to the blessed 
Virgin more faithfully than I ever have done,” re- 
turned Signora Pia, piously. “ But this poor man 
who has always loved the girl, and has now come to 
think of her as his own, and who has been so good to 
me, my heart aches for him, for he will suffer so to 
lose her, and to lose her through me.” 

‘‘You have only done your duty,” replied Sister 


364 : 


CBUGE SALUS, 


Prudenza, and you could do no less. Kow come 
with me and we will hasten to tell the mother that her 
child is living, and near her, that she may embrace her, 
and hold her to Jier heart at once.” 

When the carriage containing the nun and Signora 
Pia entered the court of the Castellara palace, the 
poor woman was in a tremor of fear and excitement, 
for the splendor impressed her to such a degree with 
the wealth and power of the mother she had wronged, 
that she scarcely dared confess her fault to so august 
a personage ; but Sister Prudenza encouraged her, tell- 
ing her that the lady was kind and gentle, and would 
readily pardon her when she brought her such good 
news at last. 

The nun was admitted immediately into the private 
apartment of the Duchess of Castellara, while Signora 
Pia waited in an ante-room, in a fever of suspense and 
excitement. She dreaded the interview with this 2:reat 
lady, the mistress of this magnificent palace, and she 
also .feared the furious anger of Hugo when he learned 
that she whom he trusted had betrayed his secret. 

At length the door opened and Signora Pia was 
summoned into the presence of the noble lady. With 
bent head and humbly-folded hands she followed the 
servant ; and when she raised her eyes every vestige 
of color fled from her troubled face, and she gasped, 

The Duchess of Castellara ! ” 


CRUCE SALU8. 


365 


At tlie same moment the Duchess, as pale and star- 
tled as the woman before her, looked at Sister Prii- 
denza and exclaimed : “ What does this mean ? I have 
seen this woman before ; she is Pia, the servant of 
Hugo the artist ; she surely cannot be the nurse to 
whom you gave my child ? ” 

“I am the same. Signora Duchess,” said the woman, 
bowing low and clasping her hands entreatingly. 

“ And my child, where is she ? Take me to her at 
once.” 

“ She is at home in the Yia San Gallo.” 

‘‘ My God ! she cannot be Lisa, the hunchback’s 
daughter ? ” 

“ Lisa is the child that was given me to nurse, and 
who was stolen from me by Hugo.” 

“ Holy Mother ! how I am punished, what a fearful 
retribution is this !” cried the Duchess, sinking into a 
chair like one smitten with palsy. 

“ But she is good and lovely. Signora Pia tells me, 
and she is restored to you safely ; for that, you should 
be devoutly thankful,” said Sister Prudenza, bending 
over the Duchess and stroking her hair with motherly 
tenderness. 

“ Lisa, the girl I have despised and hated, my child, 
Challonner’s child, my husband’s, my adored husband’s 
child, and I have seen her and my heart did not tell me 
that she was mine 1 Oh ! it cannot be possible ; there 


366 


CRUCE sales:'* 


must be some mistake. Tell me that Lisa is not my 
child ! ” 

Signora Pia and the nun looked at each other in 
astonishment. Instead of expressing joy at the recovery 
of the child, she seemed to regret it. What could it 
mean ? 

“ Tell me,” continued the Duchess, that you are 
positive there can be no mistake ; that this girl called 
Lisa is the babe who was born in the Convent of the 
Sacred Heart, more than sixteen years ago, and that 
she is my child, and no other’s. Oh, do not deceive me ; 
I pray you give me some proof that what you say is 
true.” 

“ This may convince you,” said Signora Pia, putting 
the clasp that she had taken from Father Ilario into 
the hand of the Duchess ; “ this trinket fastened the 
child’s robe when I took her from Sister Prudenza, 
and it was stolen with her, and has been concealed 
ever since by the hunchback.” 

“ Ah ! there can be no mistake ; she is indeed my 
child. I wore this clasp during my own babyhood ; it 
was said to possess a charm that would protect the in- 
fant who wore it from all evil. I, with my own weak 
fingers, fastened it in the child’s little dress when she 
was taken from me. There is no possibility of mistak- 
ing this ; it has belonged to our family for centuries, 
and it has the Altimonti legend upon it.” 


CBUGE SALUS: 


367 


Then she started up wildly, her eyes flaming, her 
face burning with vivid red, and taking Signora Pia 
by the arm, she said flercely : “ You told me she was 
safe in the Yia San Gallo— is it true ? ” 

“ Yes, your highness, she is there ; I left her there 
but a few hours ago, and she will be anxiously await- 
ing my return,” replied the woman, trembling and 
shrinking away from the angry eyes of the Duchess. 

“ I must go to her ; ring for my carriage. Sister Pru- 
denza. I must go at once. Oh ! Yaldimer Nordiskoff, 
if you have harmed one hair of her head, my ven- 
geance will be terrible. Bring my bonnet, my mantle 
— I am going out,” she said as her maid entered, “ and 
make ready the sleeping apartment next to mine, for I 
shall bring back a guest with me.” Then signing for 
the nun and Signora Pia to follow her, she hurried out, 
beside herself with impatience and eager haste. 

During the short distance to the Yia San Gallo, she 
bade the driver urge his horses to their utmost speed ; 
seeming forgetful of her pride and self-control, she 
wrung her hands and moaned, “ Oh, my child ! my in- 
jured child, how can I ever make amends for my sin, 
my cruelty, my insensibility ? Why did not my heart 
tell me that she was my child ? Ah ! now, I remember 
well when I first saw her, as lovely as a cherub, sleeping 
on the altar steps at San Miniato, how the depths of 
my soul were stirred at the sight of her. And when she 


868 


GRUCE 8ALUS: 


raised her sweet eyes to mine, it seemed as though her 
father looked at me through them. Then, for a mo- 
ment, my better nature spoke to me ; but pride, hate, 
and revenge drowned its gentle voice, and I went out 
into the world and forgot the angel that had smiled on 
me.” 

When at last the carriage stopped before Hugo’s 
door, she sprang out and hurried up the steps, that she 
had mounted so many times with weary, indifferent feet, 
as though she scarcely touched them, for impatience 
gave her wings, and the two women found it difficult 
to keep pace with her. Signora Pia unlocked the 
door with trembling fingers, and in an instant the 
Duchess was in the artist’s studio, looking with wild 
eyes and bewildered brain on the senseless form of the 
young girl extended pale and cold on the place where 
the statue of Hebe had always stood. 

At first, the Duchess did not understand what had 
taken place. She saw Yaldimer’s pale and horror- 
stricken face as he fled, followed by Hugo’s frenzied 
laughter. She saw the couch under the shadow of the 
crimson curtain. She saw the rigid, immobile form of 
the girl she had come to claim, veiled with its golden 
hair, the hands clasped over the breast, the eyes closed, 
the face upturned as white and still as chiselled mar- 
ble. She saw it all, and yet she did not understand. 

When she threw herself upon her knees, and cried, 


CRUCE SALUS:* 


369 


“ Mj child ! My child ! ” and there was no response ; 
when she clasped her arms around her and there was 
no warmth or motion ; when she pressed her lips upon 
the peaceful face and there was no smile or word, then 
she knew that some dread calamity had overtaken her. 

“You need not call her, she will not hear you ! ” 
cried Hugo, with a fiendish laugh. “You need not 
embrace her, for she is as cold and lifeless as the mar- 
ble image before you. You need not kiss her, she will 
not be conscious of your caresses. Love and scorn are 
the same to her now, for she is beyond all earthly feel- 
ing.” 

“ My God ! you cannot mean that she is dead ! ” 
cried the Duchess in an agonized voice. 

“ Yes, she is dead. I killed her to save her from 
ruin. To night she would have fled from me with the 
man who just looked upon her for the last time. He 
deceived her with his honeyed lies until she was ready 
to desert me for him ; ready to leave the one that wor- 
shipped her for a stranger— a base, bad man. All have 
conspired to rob me of her; even this viper, that I 
warmed at my fire,” and he turned his frenzied gaze 
upon Signora Pia, who stood trembling with fear and 
horror. “ But I have defrauded you of your triumph, 
I have sent her beyond your reach ; she is safe from 
the spoiler’s snare. With my own hand I gave her 

the draught that quenched her sweet life. She smiled 
16 * 


370 


GRUCE SALUS:^ 


on me when she drank it, and called me father with 
her last breath.” 

“Demon! she was not your child! Wretch! how 
dare you take her from me, her mother ! ” cried the 
Duchess, springing toward the wretched creature as 
though she would destroy him at a glance. 

“ You, her mother ? You ? ’’ said the hunchback, 
slowly, pressing his hands to his temples and looking 
at her vaguely, with his red, wild eyes. “ You are the 
Duchess of Castellara. Ah ! I remember, now ; you 
are hTemesis, Nemesis, and you have come to punish 
me ; you have come to be avenged ! ” then with his 
hands outstretched he retreated slowly before her, as 
though he would protect himself from her fury until 
he reached the door. There his hands dropped, and, 
crouching at her feet, he turned his haggard face up- 
ward while a strange light broke over it, and he mur- 
mured, as though he were speaking to himself : “You 
were the Angel of the Church, you saved me once, 
you gave me this,” drawing the ring from his bosom 
and pressing it to his lips ; “ and you told me if I ever 
needed help to come to you. I need it now. I have 
long needed it, and I come ; forgive me, save me.” 

“ Go, leave me, murderer, fiend ! I fear you and 
I will never forgive you,” cried the Duchess retreating 
from him in horror. 

Then the light faded from his wan face, and stag- 


CRUGE SALUS: 


371 


gering to his feet he moaned, “ It is true — there is 
no mercy for me, no salvation — the angel of compas- 
sion has changed to a Nemesis, and I am doomed. 
My Lisa, farewell ; I would have repented, so that I 
could have met thee again, but there is no mercy for 
me ; farewell life, farewell hope,” and with a groan of 
heart-breaking anguish, he opened the door and disap- 
peared from their sight, his haggard face wearing the 
expression of utter despair and hopeless agony. 

When he had gone, the Duchess turned again to the 
couch where Signora Pia and the nun stood weeping 
silently. Kneeling by the side of her child, the 
wretched mother looked long and tenderly into her 
face, as though she were seeking to discover the linea- 
ments of the one she had loved so well, and said be- 
tween her broken sobs : 

My husband, forgive me, for I knew not what I 
did. I would have loved her. I would have devoted 
my life to her had she not been taken from me. 
Sweet victim ! you have been sacrificed for the sin, 
the pride, the passion of those who should have loved 
and protected thee, and tears and prayers of penitence 
are alike useless now.” 

Lifting the heavy veil of her hair, the Duchess laid 
her face on the quiet bosom of her child, and folding 
her arms around her as though she would keep her for- 
ever ill her embrace, prayed silently. 


372 


CRUCE SALUS: 


Suddenly, with a wild cry, she started up, and seiz- 
ing Sister Prudenza by the arm, she said: “ Listen and 
tell me if her heart beats, for I am sure I felt the 
faintest pulsation.’’ 

The nun placed her ear against the girl’s bosom and 
listened intently ; for a moment there was deep silence, 
the mother and Signora Pia standing with bated 
breath and compressed lips. 

“ Ah ! yes, she breathes, her heart flutters feebly, 
she is not dead,” cried Sister Prudenza. “ She is in a 
state of syncope, and life has not left her.” 

“ Go quickly for a doctor — go. Signora Pia, and if 
we can save her I will serve God as I never have be- 
fore,” and the Duchess seized the woman’s hand and 
hurried her to the door. 

Then she lifted the heavy head of the girl and laid 
it on her bosom, while she and the nun chafed the 
wrists and temples, which were as cold as marble 
under their touch. 

Signora Pia’s feet must have had wings on that 
occasion, for, before they had dared expect her, she re- 
turned with a doctor, who said at once that there was 
both life and hope. 

The deadly draught had but half done its work ; the 
wretched hunchback was not skilled in the use of poi- 
sons, and he had given an overdose that resulted in the 
appearance of death only, for in less than an hour, 


CRUCE SALU8: 


373 


under the judicious treatment of the ph^^sician, Lisa 
breathed softly, and opened her sweet eyes upon the 
happy face of her mother, who bent over her. 

“ Thank God, she is saved,” cried the Duchess, fall- 
ing on her knees in an ecstasy of happiness and grati- 
tude. 

When the wretched hunchback rushed away from 
the anger of Nemesis, he had but one desire in his 
despairing, hopeless soul, and that was to reach the 
river, where he could find speedy oblivion and relief 
from the anguish that was consuming him. 

With wild, burning eyes, and clenched hands, he 
rushed on through the familiar streets, down the Lung’ 
Arno, by the palaces and squares, among the gay crowd 
that turned and looked at him wonderingly, but no 
friendly hand was outstretched to save him. “ To the 
river, to the river,” seemed to sound in his ears like 
roaring torrents. “ To the river,” the people seemed 
to shout as he dashed by; the wind that smote his 
cheek seemed to hiss, “ To the river.” On the pave- 
ment under his feet, on the heavens above him, was 
written in letters of fire, “ To the river, to the river.” 

And so he went on and on, until the peaceful, wind- 
ing Arno reached out her arms for him, and with one 
dull, heavy splash he was folded in her embrace and at 
rest forever. 

The next morning they found him fioating among 


374 


ENRICO'S REWARD. 


the piers of the Ponte Yecchio. The bridge where he 
had made his first venture in life finished all his woes 
and disappointments. 

It is Hugo, the sculptor,” said one of the bystanders, 
as they drew his deformed body out of the water and 
laid it on the bank for a curious crowd to gaze at. 
^‘His prosperity must have turned his brain, for he 
was to receive ten thousand scudi for a statue of 
Hebe.” 

Madre di Dio^ and he has drowned himself. Of 
course he was mad.” 

Tightly clasped in one stiff hand was a gold ring 
with a coronet and the legend “ a cruce salus.^^ 


CHAPTEK XXIY. 

ENEICO’S KEWAKD. 

H a garden of one of the most beautiful villas 
on the lake of Como, two ladies were slowly 
walking back and forth among the roses and 
jasmines, shaded by the fragrant branches of the 
orange and myrtle, that extended protectingly over 
them. 




ENRICO'S REWARD. 


375 


One was not far from middle life, the other in the 
first flush of youth and beauty; the elder was a tall, 
queenly woman, with glorious dark eyes, rich golden 
hair, a soft pale skin, and a mouth of exquisite loveli- 
ness, around which lingered a sad smile. The younger 
was slight and fair, with blue eyes, complexion of trans- 
parent whiteness, and hair as light as the silken tassels 
of corn. 

It was not difficult to judge that the relationship 
between them was that of mother and daughter, even if 
one had not overheard their conversation, for the girl 
clung affectionately to her companion, who walked 
with her arm around her in a tender, protecting man- 
ner. 

The morning was lovely, the blue and cloudless sky 
was reflected in the mirror of the lake, the magnolia, 
orange, and acacia dipped their odorous branches in 
the gentle, rippling waves that washed the flowery 
banks. The marble steps of the villa, the urns of 
blooming flowers, the winged doves, the stately, slender 
columns, all were repeated again and again on the 
sapphire-like surface of the fairest sheet of water in 
the world ; while the mountains and olive-crowned 
hills stood around like watchful sentinels, with linked 
hands, keeping guard over a precious jewel. 

“ Oh, mamma ! is not nature perfect ; does it not 
satisfy oije fully ? ” said the girl in a clear, happy 


376 


ENBIGG'8 REWARD. 


voice, while her admiring eyes drank in the scene be- 
fore her. * 

“ Yes, my Lisa, it leaves us nothing to desire, and 
it never disappoints and deceives us ; it is always sin- 
cere and truthful, no matter what its mood may be. 
We can worship it without fear, we can turn to it in 
sorrow, and it always consoles us. It is God’s own 
handiwork, therefore it must be good.” 

“ I used to dream of such a picture as this, hour 
after hour, when I was sitting in the dreary studio in 
the Yia San Gallo,” said the girl with a soft sigh ; “ and 
wish I had wings that I might fly to such a spot, and 
never leave it.” 

‘‘ Poor child, you were little better than a prisoner 
then, and those four gloomy walls were your prison ; 
but it is over, and you must not think any more of it, 
my darling.” 

“ But papa was good to me.” 

“ Pray do not say ^ papa ; ’ it hurts me to hear you, 
and it would be better for you to forget the unfortu- 
nate creature who wronged you so.” 

‘‘I cannot, mamma, if I desired to. Only think 
for how many years he was all I had in the world to 
love ; why, there is not a day that I do not remember 
some little act of tenderness and patient self-denial 
toward me.” 

“ For his care of you I owe him a debt of gratitude ; 


ENRICO'S REWARD. 


377 


but the memory of his sin, and his dreadful intention 
to take your precious life, fills me with horror when I 
think of it.” 

“ But remember, mamma, that he was not in his 
right mind ; he was insane, or he never would have 
harmed a hair of my head. Do not speak bitterly of 
him, he was so unfortunate, and he suffered so much. 
Poor, unhappy soul ! I trust at the last that God for- 
gave him, for he died with your ring clasped in his 
hand, as though he found some hope in the legend to 
comfort him in his hour of supreme agony.” 

“Sweet child, your gentle nature, your generous 
heart, can find excuse and forgiveness for all who have 
wronged you,” and the Duchess of Castellara stooped 
and- pressed her lips fondly to her daughter’s cheek. 

“ It is because I am so happy now, mamma. God 
has been so good to me, then why should I not be good 
to those who have sinned and suffered, for all who sin 
must endure some punishment as a penalty for dis- 
obeying their own conscience, and forgetting their 
sacred duty. Now that my trouble is over, and 1 can 
look calmly on the past, I know that I was a great 
sinner in my love for Yaldimer — for Count Nordiskoff 
— for I deceived the one who was a father to me, who 
trusted and loved me ; I concealed the truth from him, 
and allowed myself to be over-persuaded, when in my 
heart I felt that it was all wrong ; but I loved him, 


378 


ENBICaS ME WARD. 


mamma, oh ! I loved him ! and when I heard his 
voice it seemed as though an angel spoke to me,” and 
Lisa turned away her head to hide her dim eyes and 
flushed face from her mother’s searching gaze. 

“ He was a false, bad man, my child, and your 
greatest enemy. 1 hope that you have driven him en- 
tirely from your heart, and that you love him no 
more,” said the Duchess, sternly. 

Ah ! mamma, you know that I despise him now as 
much as I loved him once. But, can you blame me 
for trusting hi m then ? ” 

“ Ho, my Lisa, I cannot, for I once trusted him my- 
self ; and if he could deceive me, how much easier it 
was to gain a conquest over your innocence and youth, 
poor child ! You knew so little of the world, you were 
so inexperienced and confiding, that his sin in deceiv- 
ing you was greater than though you had been older 
and more worldly wise.” 

“Then you forgive me, mamma? I have always 
wanted to ask you to pardon me for the sin of decep- 
tion, yet I dare not speak of it to you ; but now I may 
know that you forgive me and trust me, may I not ? ” 

“ Yes, my darling, I forgave you long ago ; for your 
fault was but the result of your inexperience, and I 
could not withhold my pardon from you when I had 
so much to blame myself for.” 

“ Hush ! mamma dear, I cannot allow you to find 


ENElCaS EE WARD. 


379 


fault with yourself. Your goodness to me now more 
tlian atones for all errors of the past. Grod kept me 
safely for you, and my fortunate deliverance from a 
great danger has taught me to be always truthful and 
honest to those who have the right to my confidence.” 

“ I am glad to hear these words, my child, for I have 
sometimes feared that you might keep your most 
sacred feelings hidden from me, that you might con- 
ceal some of your inner life from the eyes that would 
read your heart as an open book.” 

ISTay, mamma, there is nothing that I would keep 
from you.” 

“ No regret for the past — no desire for the future ? ” 

“Do you mean in regard to Count Nordiskoff? 
All ! mamma, my only regret is that 1 ever saw him — 
that I was foolish enough to have loved him; but, 
believe me, it is all over, and I have no other desire' 
for the future than to love you and to devote my life 
to you.” 

“ Are you quite sure that, among all the handsome 
young nobles who would win your heart and hand, 
that there is none you care for ? ” 

“None, mamma. They are all kind and good to 
me, because I’ am your daughter ; they admire me, 
because I am a little like you ; that is all ; but I care 
no more for one than another.” 

“How is that, my Lisa? You are young, rich. 


380 


ENRICO^ S REWARD. 


and lovely, and, during the two years that you have 
been under my care, you have worked so hard to im- 
prove yourself, that there are few girls of your age 
more accomplished and intelligent; therefore, you 
already have many suitors to whom I must give 
some reason for refusing. What can I say to them, 
pray ? ” 

“ Tell them that I love my mamma too well to leave 
her,” returned the girl, laughing and clinging fondly 
to her mother’s arm. 

“Sweet flatterer! that is no reason at all. Your 
love for me will not prevent you from loving your 
husband.” 

“ But I will have no husband,” cried the girl with a 
startled look. “ Oh, mamma, why must I think of such 
a thing, why cannot I remain with you and be happy ? ” 

“ You can, my sweet darling, if you wish to, and 
your mother, who has herself suffered so deeply, will 
never force you to wed against your inclination. But 
I have had a proposal for your hand, a written pro- 
posal ; it came yesterday, a large important letter from 
Florence, and I must prepare to answer it. In fact, 
my dear, your Cousin Enrico comes this very day to 
receive the answer,” and the Duchess fixed her eyes 
steadily on the face of her daughter. 

“ Cousin Enrico is coming for the answer ! Why, 
what has he to do with it, pray ? ” said Lisa in a trem- 


ENRICO' 8 REWARD. 


381 


ulous voice, while a flood of crimson swept over her 
sweet face. ‘‘ Oh, mamma, does he wish me to marry ? ” 
Yes, my child, your cousin wishes it; he thinks this 
offer is in every way eligible. He is well acquainted 
with the character of the gentleman who would win 
your love, and he knows him to* be good and noble, 
\vorthy of you in every respect, and beside, my dear, 
this suitor has loved you for a long time.” 

“ How can that be, mamma ? I know no one among 
your friends who ever saw me until I came to live with 
you, excepting Cousin Enrico. Then how is it possible 
that this person has loved me for a long time, as you 
say ? ” 

‘‘ It is a romance, my Lisa ; he saw you in church 
and was so impressed with your beauty that he went 
many times, and watched you unobserved, for he was 
too noble and honorable to annoy you with attentions, 
that in your position, at that time, could only have 
been an injury to you.” 

“ And you know him, mamma ? ” 

‘‘Yes, well, he is my best friend.” 

“ And is it your wish that I should become his 
wife ? ” 

“ It is, my darling.” 

“ Oh, mamma, what can I do ? I wish to obey you. 
I should like to please Cousin Enrico, if he wishes 
it; but I cannot, indeed, I cannot promise you to 


382 


ENRICO'S REWARD. 


marry a person I do not know nor love.” And the 
girl’s eyes filled with tears, while a sob choked her 
voice. 

“ My dear child, have I not said that you shall not 
marry him unless you love him ? When you know 
him, and he has tried to win you, then you may de- 
cide, and whatever you wish, the mother who loves 
you will consent to ; so wipe away your tears and be 
happy, and we will think of some way to defer the 
answer to Cousin Enrico.” 

“ Why does he send Cousin Enrico ? Why does he 
not come himself ? I did not think my cousin would 
wish me to marry. Oh, mamma, are you sure he wishes 
it ? ” asked Lisa with another sob. 

“ Quite sure,” returned the Duchess, looking again 
earnestly into her daughter’s grieved, tearful face ; then, 
stooping, she drew her to her breast and said, in a voice 
of infinite tenderness : ‘‘ My sweet child, did you not 
but just now tell me that your heart was like an open 
book before me ? and yet you are keeping something 
hidden ; you love some one, and you will not confess it 
to your mother.” 

“Oh! mamma, how can you say so?” cried Lisa, 
her face covered with vivid blushes. “ Who could I 
love beside you? You make me unhappy when you 
doubt me.” 

“ Ah I here comes Enrico,” said the Duchess, look- 


ENRICO'S REWARD. 


383 


ing up from lier daughter’s agitated face, as the quick, 
eager steps of some one approaching sounded on her 
ear. “ Go, Lisa, and meet him.” 

“ Pray excuse me, mamma, and allow me to go to 
Signora Pia. I will return again in a few moments,” 
and the girl darted away with averted face, just as 
Count Altimonti appeared from behind a clump of 
trees. 

The Duchess looked after her daughter and smiled 
a little sadly, as she said, in a low voice : “ Sweet child, 
she does not know her own heart ; but I have j^robed 
it until I have discovered her secret. She loves the 
one who loves her, and she shall be happy.” Then 
she turned, with a cordial greeting, to welcome her 
cousin. 

“ Ah ! Enrico, you are here, and quite as impatient 
as a young lover.” 

“Yes, cousin, I am impatient, now that the time has 
come when I can speak. Have I not waited long 
enough, and have I not given the sweet* child time to 
forget the past, and to become acquainted with her 
own heart ? ” 

“ I have no fault to find with you, Enrico ; you have 
been very patient, and you certainly deserve your re- 
ward.” 

“ Tell me, cousin, do you think she loves me ? ” 

“ I did not ask her the direct question, 1 thought 


384 


ENBIGO'8 REWABD. 


you would prefer to do that, yourself ; but I have 
learned enough to give you hope.” 

Ah, I need encouragement. Duchess, for I some- 
times think it impossible that one so young and lovely 
can prefer a serious, elderly individual like myself, to 
younger and handsomer men.” 

“With false, base hearts!” returned the Duchess, 
bitterly. “ If Lisa did not understand and appreciate 
your noble soul, she would be no daughter of mine, 
and I should not consider her worthy of your devo- 
tion.” 

“ That you are willing to give your treasure into my 
keeping, is sufficient proof of your estimation of my 
character. I need not say how I shall strive to make 
her happy, how I shall devote my life to her.” 

“ I have no fear for her future if you share it, Enrico. 
I love my child, and I am anxious that her happiness 
shall not be shipwrecked as mine was. Now, I live 
but for her, and next to her you are the dearest friend 
I have on earth ; then, what can give me more happi- 
ness than to see her your wife ? And, when this is 
accomplished, I shall devote my wealth and time to 
the work of our Blessed Saviour, to whom I vowed 
myself when I knelt by my unconscious child and im- 
plored Him for her life. I must redeem that vow, 
Enrico, and also make some atonement for my sinfully 
sc^uandered years. There is much for me to do, and I 


ENRICO'S REWARD. 


385 


would be about my Master’s business. Then, take my 
child, and may God deal with you as you deal with 
her.” 

“ Thank you, cousin, with all my soul ; this is the 
happiest day of my life,” said Enrico, gratefully kiss- 
ing the beautiful hand of the Duchess. 

“ Now let us speak of the practical. My Lisa will be 
rich, for her right to her father’s property in England 
has been established, and she will have that, besides 
what comes to her from my father’s estate, but my 
dower right to the Castellara wealth I shall reserve 
for a work of charity. Enrico, I will tell you of my 
dearest, most sacred wish, and I shall claim your assist- 
ance in carrying it out. It is this : I desire to found 
an asylum for deformed, friendless children. You 
remember the ten thousand sGudi that poor Hugo was 
paid for the statue of Hebe, and which was found in 
his studio after his death ? ” 

“ Yes, I remember it, and it was entrusted to Father 
Ilario for some good work.” 

“ Well, Father Ilario agrees with me that it cannot 
be used for a more worthy charity than this of which 
I speak, and I am sure if the unfortunate hunchback 
could express a desire he would also consent to our 
using it for such a noble purpose.” 

“ And this is the good work to which you would 

dedicate your wealth and the remainder of your life ? 

17 


386 


ENRICO'S REWARD. 


Ah ! my cousin, I knew you had a great and generous 
heart, and 1 will help you with all my soul.” 

“ Enrico, if I devote all the future that God gives 
me on earth — all my means and energies in Ilis ser- 
vice, and for the good of the poor and suffering, I 
cannot half atone for the folly and sin of my past. I 
know now how wrong it all was, my love for Yaldimer 
Nordiskoff, my hate for my husband, and anger against 
my father. Ah ! I would not have suffered so much 
had I forgiven him before he died, and received his 
blessing. But it is too late to regret. I trust in eternity 
we may be united as we never were on earth. In my 
bitterness and despair at the loss of Yaldimer’s love I 
almost cursed God. Now, I see how a Divine Provi- 
dence was my friend through all, and how I was saved 
from a misery too great to think of without sliudder- 
ing. There is one thing, my cousin, that I should like 
to ask you, before I dismiss this subject forever. Do 
you know aught of Count Nordiskoff ? ” 

“ He is in Paris. I heard of him quite accidentally, 
a few weeks ago; he is living a gay and reckless life 
among the heartless and fashionable, and he will never 
return to Italy ; for I am told that he holds the coun- 
try and the Italian people in horror, and turns quite 
pale and ill, if by chance he meets any one he for- 
merly knew in Florence ; and that no one can induce 
him even to visit the Italian opera, where he must hear 


EN RIGORS REWARD. 


387 


the language that will remind him of an epoch in his 
life that he earnestly desires to forget — and no wonder, 
when he considers that he was the cause of the death 
of the Duke, and, as he thinks, the daughter of the un- 
fortunate Hugo, for, as far as I can learn, he has never 
heard that Lisa is still living, and that your daughter 
and she are the same.” 

“ And the statue of Hebe, what became of that ? ” 

“ It is ill the D palace ; Hordiskoff presented it 

to his friend Count D , and he took possession of 

it shortly after the death of the unhappy artist.” 

‘‘Did you ever notice, among the incomplete works 
in clay, in Hugo’s studio, a statue of Hemesis \ ” 

“Yes, and under the unmistakable character of the 
angry goddess, I recognized the face of the Duchess of 
Castellara.” 

“ What did you do with it ? ” 

“ I caused it to be destroyed, knowing that you no 
longer wish to be represented in such a cruel imper- 
sonation.” 

“ Thank you, Enrico; it was an insane freak of mine 
when I first began to suspect Yaldimer’s constancy ; 
he had often expressed a wish for a portrait of me in 
marble, and I intended, if I proved that he had de- 
ceived me, to present him with that; but thank Heaven 
that the foolish intention was frustrated, and the work 
left unfinished, for, as you say, I have now no desire 


388 


ENETCOS BEWARE. 


for vengeance — my only and greatest need is for 
mercy.” 

“ Which you will have, dear cousin, and many years 
of peace and happiness in the love of your child, and 
in my friendship and devotion.” 

Grod grant that it may be so ; now go to Lisa, and 
learn your fate from her own lips, and if she loves you 
as I think she does, there is nothing to prevent your 
union at once.” - 

Lisa sat alone in a little arbor under an orange tree, 
watching the pretty boats darting back and forth on 
the sunlit mirror of the lake, and wondered why 
her mother detained her cousin so long, and what 
could be the absorbing subject of their conversa- 
tion. 

“ They are discussing this intended marriage,” she 
thought, “and it is useless for them to make their 
plans for my disposal, for I am determined, without 
seeing him, not to like this person whom they wish me 
to marry.” 

At last Enrico came toward her with his firm, proud 
step, and his handsome face lit up with love and happi- 
ness, while she, trembling and blushing, and yet re- 
solved to oppose him, held out her hand joyfully as she 
said : 

“I thought you intended to talk all day with 
mamma, and that you had quite forgotten me.” 


ENRICO'S REWARD. 


m 


“ Ah, no, my sweet cousin, you were not forgotten, 
for it was of you we were speaking.” 

‘‘ I suspected that, and you need not repeat what 
you were saying to her, for I am quite resolved not to 
listen to you.” 

“ But I have a message from your mamma, and you 
cannot refuse to hear that.” 

“ No, I suppose not ; you may give it me, and if it is 
what I think, I shall regret your having brought it, for 
I like you always to be the bearer of pleasant tidings.” 

“ I trust these are pleasant ; may I tell you what your 
mamma wished me to ask you ? ” 

“ Yes, if I must hear it.” 

“ These were her words, ‘ Ask Lisa yourself if she 
loves you,, and tell her if she does that she has my 
consent to your marriage with her.’ ” 

The girl turned pale and red alternately at Enrico’s 
words, and then said, with eager joy in her voice, “ Are 
you the one mamma wishes me to marry ? ” 

“ I am, mv Lisa.” 

“And are you the one who has loved me so long?” 

“ 1 am. I have loved you ever since the night I res- 
cued you from danger, for on that night 1 first saw you 
praying in the church, and my heart went to you and 
has remained with you ever since.” 

“ Can it be possible that you love me ? Oh ! I did 
not dare to think of such happiness.” 


390 


ENRICaS REWARD. 


“ And you, my darling, do you love me ? *’ 

“ Come with me to mamma and I will answer you.” 

Taking Enrico’s hand she led him to the spot where 
the Duchess was sitting, and putting her arm gently 
around her mother’s neck she pressed her face close to 
hers and whispered : “ Mamma, I am willing to obey 
you ; I will marry the husband you have selected for 
me.” 

And so Enrico had his reward. 


In an obscure street in Florence stands an old pal- 
ace that travellers seldom visit ; some years ago it be- 
longed to the D family, but now it has passed into 

other hands. Among the few choice works of art that 
adorn its sombre gallery is an exquisite statue of 
Hebe. On the base is the single name, 

Hugo,” 

and on the reverse a line from Dante, 

“ Della hella jpersona^ che mi fu toltaP 
Who was Hugo? 


THE END. 


1878, 


1878. 



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“CarIeton’§ New Illustrated Edition.” 

Complete in 15 Volumes. 

The size and form is most convenient for holding, — the type is 
entirely new, and of a cleat and open character that has receiv^ the 
approval of tlie reading commimity in other popular works. 

The illustrations are by the original artists chosen I y Charles 
Dickens himself — and the paper, printing, and binding are of an 
attractive and substantial character. 

This beautiful new edition is complete in 15 volumes — at the 
extremely reasonable price of $1.50 per volume, as follows : — 

1. — PICKWICK PAPERS AND CATALOGUE. 

2. — OLIVER TWIST. — UNCOMMERCIAL TRAVELLER. 

3. — DAVID COPPERFIELD. 

4. — GREAT EXPECTATIONS. — ITALY AND AMERICA. 

5. — DOMBEY AND SON. 

6. — BARNABY RUDGE AND EDWIN DROOD. 

7. — NICHOLAS NICKLEBY. 

8. — CURIOSITY SHOP AND MISCELLANEOUS. 

9. — BLEAK HOUSE. 

la — LITTLE DORRIT. 

1 1. — MARTIN CIIUZZLEWIT. 

12. — OUR MUTUAL FRIEND. 

13. — CHRISTMAS BOOKS. — TALE OF TWO CITIBS. 

4. — SKETCHES BY LOZ AND HARD TIMES. 

15. — CHILD’S ENGLAND AND MISCELLANEOUS. 

The first volume —Pickwick Papers — contains an alphabetic^ 
catalogue of all of Charles Dickens’ writings, with their pi>sitiaj* 
in the volumes. 

This edition is sold by Booksellers, everywhere — and single speci- 
men ctmies will be forwarded by mail, postage free^ on receipt of 

^ CARLETON & CO., Publishers, 

Madison Square, New York. 


Mary J. Holmes’ Works. 


1 -TEMPEST AND SUNSHINE, 
i --ENGLISH ORPHANS, 
j -^^HOMESTEAD ON HILT.SIDE. 
' I —'LENA RIVERS. 

J i -MEADOW BROOK. 

& — DORA DEANE, 
f.— COUSIN MAUDE. 
i6. -WEST LAWN. 


8,— MARIAN GRAY. 

9 — DARKNESS and DAYLIGHT 
ic— HUGH WORTHINGTON. 
II.— CAMERON PRIDE, 
la.— ROSE MATHER, 
i^.— ETHELVN’S MISTAKE 
14.— MILLBANK. ♦ 

^75. -EDNA BROWNING. 

17.— EDITH LYLE. 


OPINIONS OF THE PRESS 


k 


“Mrs, Hol.^s’ stories are universally read. Her admirers are numbciles*. 
She is in many respects vvithout a rival in the world of fiction. Her characters 
arc always life-like, and she makes them talk and act like human 1>e:ngs, subject 
to the same emotions, swayed by the same passions, and actuated by the same 
monves wkiv-h airs common among men and women of every day existence. Mrs. 
Holmes is very happy in portraying domestic life. Old and young peruse he/ 
storks with great delight, for she writes in a style that all can comprehend.” — 
/V<f*w Vffrk Weekly. 


“Mrs. Holmes' stories are all of a domestic character, and their interest, 
thcrclore, is not so intense as if they were more highly seasoned with sensational- 
Lsm, but it is r f a healthy and abiding character. Almost any new book which her 
publisher might choose to announce from her pen would get an immediate and 
r general reading. The interest in her tale.s begins at once, and is maintained to 
the close. Her sentiments are so sound, her sympathies so warm and ready, 
and her knowledge of manners, character, and the varied incidents of oidlnary 
tils is so thorough, that she would find it difficult to write any other than an 
excellent tale if she were to try it” — Boiton Banner. 


“Mrs. Holmes is very amusing; has a quick and true sense of hemor, a 
sympathetic tone, a perception of character, and a familial, attractive style, 
pleasantly adapted to the comprehension and the taste of that large clast ei 
American readers for whom fashionable novels and ideal fantasies have no 
j dbarin .’’ — Henry T. Tuckerman. 


' 637" The volumes are ali handsomely printed and bound in doth. — said 

I iiwywhcire, and sent by mxA, pottage free^ on receipt of price [9z«5o each], 

O. W CARLETON & CO., Publisheri, 

Madison Square^ New Vetk. 


FIFTH AVENUE HOTEL, 


OPPOSITE MADISON SQUARE, 
Junction of 5th Avenue and Broadway. 



THE BEST and MOST CENTRAL HOTEL in tlie CITIT. 


Convenient to all Places of Amusement, 
and easy of access by all horse 
car and stage lines. 

DARLIITG, GRISWOLD A CO., 

^ropvtetovs. 



ta States Life Insbeance Co, 


IN THE CITY OF NEW YORK. 


Home Office: 261, 262 & 263 Broadway, N. Y. 


/Issefs, 84, 846, 032. 64. Surplus, $800, 000. 00. 


ALL FORMS OF LIFE AND ENDOWMENT POLICIES ISSUED. 
Endowment Policies and Approved Claims due in 1878 will be 
discounted at 7 per cent, on presentation. 


C. P. FRALEIGH, Sec’y. JAMES BUELL, Pres’t. T. H. BROSNAN, Sup’t. 

THE PRINCIPAL FEATURES OF THIS COMPANY ARE 


ADsolnte Security, Economical Management, and LiDerality to tlie Insnred.' 


OPINIOITS ESPEESSED BY THE IHSUEANCE COMMISSIONEES. 

Hon. Stephen H. Rhodes, Commissioner for Massachusetts, says : 
“ The United States Life is Sound to the core and in a very 
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Its books, accounts, and collaterals, its policy liabilities and agency 
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the slightest concealment or misapprehension. Its mortgages were 
actually appraised, and notwithstanding the decline in the value 
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giving evidence of remarkable discernment and soundness of judg- 
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perfectly sound, and can afford to challenge criticism, the effect of 
the very thorough examination we have made will only be to increase 
its popularity, and confirm the confidence now reposed in its man- 
agement. The movement will only serve to advertise the company 
and draw public attention to its solid condition.” 

Hon.Wm. Smyth, Insurance Superintendent of New York, states : 
“ The people may rely upon my report as a faithful and complete 
statement of the truth. A fortnight wtis spent in the examination, 
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enabled the examiners to prosecute their labors with rapidity. 
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and unexceptionally good. All their mortgages were' appraised, 
and I was agreeably surprised to find that these securities had 
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to have presided over these investments. I feel that I have 
reason to congratulate the life insurance interest on the strictness 
of the investigation, because it has demonstrated the integrity and 
solid strength of this sterling old life corporation.” 



dee, iMe Dep’t, Drexel BniMiig, cor.Wall & Broad Sts. H. W. BALLWIN, Snpt. 


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